


Lifetime Record

by futuresoon



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghost, Bittersweet, M/M, Mentions of Past Animal Death, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-08-30 21:00:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 40,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8548942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/futuresoon/pseuds/futuresoon
Summary: Victor Nikiforov is a lot of things: a celebrity, a genius, the world's greatest men's figure skater, the object of Yuuri Katsuki's idolization. He's also been dead for twenty years. When Yuuri returns home in search of something to inspire him to get back into skating, what he finds is someone eager to help, unconventional, and incredibly, desperately lonely.





	1. Chapter 1

The first time Yuuri sees him is at age five, when he’s at the skating rink for the first time in his life. Minako-sensei recommended it, and Yuuri would do pretty much anything Minako-sensei recommended, because ballet lessons are much more fun than school. Yuuri’s not all that great at school, but he’s good at ballet. And ice skating is apparently like ballet.

It’s _cold,_ though, in the rink; Yuuri shivers even through the sweater his mom made for him. But everyone else can handle it, so he can do it too, he just has to try. And skating doesn’t look that hard. He takes a wobbly step onto the ice, and another.

He’s about to fall when one of the girls skating grabs his arm. “Careful,” she says, slowing to a stop so he can hold on.

“Thank you,” Yuuri mumbles. It’s embarrassing; everyone else is doing it, but he can’t, so he probably won’t be good at it, so he should just go. He looks back at his mom, who’s standing a couple feet away at the entrance to the ice and straightening up like she was reaching for him too. This is stupid. He should go.

“Come on, I’ll show you!” the girl says, and she pulls him away from the entrance before he can step back.

He stumbles, but while she’s dragging him his feet find purchase on the ice. The momentum isn’t his, it’s all the girl, but he’s moving forward in an actual line and he switches feet and it _works._ He’s skating.

They’re not all that far into the ice, but it’s far enough. The girl slows to a stop again and turns around, smiling brightly and holding out her other hand. “I’m Yuuko,” she says. “What’s your name?”

Ten minutes later, he doesn’t need Yuuko’s help.

Ice skating doesn’t seem like ballet yet, not the way you drag your feet while you’re moving, but Yuuri likes it. He waves at his mom from all the way across the rink. She waves back, grinning.

Twenty minutes later, he’s close to her again, and she calls out, “Yuuri, it’s time to go home. Aren’t you cold?”

He is, his fingers are like icicles and his nose feels like it’s going to freeze solid, but he wants to stay, he wants to stay as long as he can. Yuuko, pulling up next to him, says, “You should do what your mom says.”

Yuuri feels slightly betrayed.

Yuuko’s shivering too, though, and it looks like she wants to stop anyway. Yuuri likes skating, but it’s nice to have Yuuko there, and maybe it won’t be as fun if she isn’t. So he calls out, “Okay,” and only somewhat unsteadily skates back.

As soon as he’s off the ice, he says, “Can we come back tomorrow?” in a rush of words. He doesn’t have lessons tomorrow, so it should be fine, right?

“Only if you finish your homework tonight,” his mom says, a chiding tone in her voice but a soft smile on her face.

Yuuri swallows. He really doesn’t like doing his homework. “Okay,” he repeats anyway. He must sound really sad, because next to him Yuuko giggles.

Someone else laughs too, farther away. Yuuri glances over at an opposite wall, and there’s a man in colorful clothes leaning against it, watching the whole thing with a smile.

“Let’s go, Yuuri,” his mom says, and he looks back at her, and he doesn’t look at the wall again. Not that he’d see much; the man isn’t there anymore.

Yuuri doesn’t meet him again for eighteen years.

\---

Sochi is a failure, and everything else is a failure, and success doesn’t really seem like a thing anymore, so Yuuri goes home. It was stupid to even think he could try. Well, maybe not _that_ stupid; just getting to the Grand Prix Final wasn’t nothing. But it wasn’t enough. Being really good isn’t enough. Being great, even; being the pride of your hometown doesn’t mean anything if you don’t live up to it forever.

Still. It’s nice to see Yuuko-chan again. And there is something he’s not terrible at; he practiced it whenever he got the chance, watching the old footage that ended up on YouTube. Years ago, he and Yuuko-chan watched actual tapes of it, but there weren’t any VHS players in Detroit. Thank god for the digital age.

Yuuri still can’t do the quads in the program, but this isn’t a competition and it’s the overall look that counts. In an old local rink, for his childhood friend, he skates a mostly-perfect copy of a program that hasn’t been performed in competition for almost twenty years--“Stay Close to Me”.

Yuuko-chan nearly screams in joy once he’s finished, and he thinks, oh, there’s a reason he tried, isn’t there.

“That was amazing!” she says. “How’d you get it all down like that? Whenever we tried, we never got it right. It’s hard just copying from tapes.”

“Practice,” he says, and grins. He’s missed Yuuko-chan’s energy. He’s missed all of this, really. “I just practiced over and over. Celestino always thought it was kind of weird, but it gave me something to do.”

Yuuko-chan sighs happily, resting her chin on her hands. “I wish my girls could have seen it,” she says. “They’re real fans of yours, you know.”

Yuuri’s heart sinks just a little, but he should have remembered. And he still feels better than he did when he got off the plane, anyway.

“Can I practice here a while longer?” he asks. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Yuuko-chan says. “I was about to lock up, but I’ll give you the keys. I trust you won’t burn the place down.” She winks.

Yuuko leaves the keys on the table by the edge of the entrance to the ice. With her absence, and the utter silence, the large room yawns like a void. It’s familiar, though, much more familiar than the rink in Detroit, for all that he’d spent five years there. It even feels more like home than the inn.

For a few minutes, Yuuri skates compulsory figures, letting his mind drift into the rote movement. It’s so relaxing, not having to think, just doing something on automatic. He could probably do these in his sleep.

He’s distracted from his reverie when someone calls out, “I’d almost forgotten what that looked like.”

Yuuri starts. He’d thought nobody else was there. Maybe there’s a new employee? It’s kind of awkward to think that someone was watching him practice.

He looks around. No one on the ice, no one by the door. All that’s left is the long wall of the barrier, so he looks there, too, and.

“Um,” Yuuri says.

Someone who looks _exactly_ like Victor Nikiforov is standing right behind the barrier with his arms crossed. He waves. “Hello,” he says.

Yuuri isn’t stupid. He knows exactly what happened here twenty years ago. This person’s even wearing the exact outfit. Outfits can be replicated, of course, and celebrity impersonators are a thing, but if there was a new employee who looked exactly like Victor Nikiforov, Yuuko-chan would have mentioned it. And regular hours are over. Customers wouldn’t be here.

Perhaps in response to Yuuri’s silent stare, the man who looks exactly like Victor Nikiforov lowers his hand and walks through the barrier like it’s nothing but air. Ah. Right. So.

“You’re the ghost of Victor Nikiforov, aren’t you,” Yuuri says weakly.

The apparent ghost of Victor Nikiforov beams. “I knew you’d get it!” he says, grinning. “You and Yuuko always talked about me so much. I figured you’d recognize me.”

Yuuri would wonder if he was dreaming, but he’s still sweaty from the exertion of the performance, and that seems more detailed than a dream would be. Also, the last chance he had to fall asleep was on the plane, and dreaming the entirety of the last several hours seems a bit much. “A lot of people here would recognize you,” he says in a slight daze. “You’re kind of a local legend.”

Victor looks hopeful. “Lots of skating fans here?” he asks.

Yuuri shakes his head. “When a famous foreign athlete has a fatal accident in a local establishment, people remember,” he says. “There are still newspaper articles in the library.”

He’s read all of them. Watched the taped interviews, too. There’s a reason Hasetsu has plenty of tapes of Victor’s programs.

Victor doesn’t so much frown as pout. “Well, I guess it’s better than not being remembered at all,” he says. “And you and Yuuko certainly seemed to be fans of mine.”

Yuuri still hasn’t moved from where he is. He’s pretty sure he’s still trying to process this.

“You were, um, good,” he says awkwardly. “Are good? I’m sorry, I don’t really…I don’t think it’s really hit me yet. That you’re. Talking to me. And speaking pretty good Japanese?” Oof, _there_ it is. It all finally drops on him, and he nearly collapses. “I’m gonna, I’m gonna go sit down,” he says, but there aren’t any chairs, so he manages to not fall over while he skates to the entrance and sits down on the concrete without putting guards on his skates.

Victor phases back through the barrier and over to where Yuuri is sitting. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think about how you’d react,” he says, a remorseful tone in his voice. “I was just looking forward so much to talking to you! I’ve been waiting for such a long time.”

Breathe in, breathe out. Yuuri wipes the sweat from his forehead. “Wait, what?” he asks, once he realizes what Victor just said.

“I didn’t know it was you specifically, but I knew I was supposed to meet _someone,”_ Victor says. “I just had this feeling. And then you showed up again and did my program, and I knew.” Victor has a very bright smile; it practically fills the room. “So hello! I’m Victor. You already knew that.”

“Yeah,” Yuuri manages. “You, uh, already know who I am?” It’s a very strange feeling, that Victor Nikiforov knows who he is. Also that Victor Nikiforov is in a position to be currently doing anything at all.

“I know who all the regulars are,” Victor says, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t have much else to do besides watch everyone.”

Understandable.

“You used to be here all the time, until about five years ago,” Victor says. “You weren’t half bad, either. People mention you sometimes--Yuuko and Takeshi in particular talk about you often, did you know?”

He did not.

“It was good to hear you went competitive,” Victor continues. “Shame you’ve been in a slump lately. But you’re young, you’ll get back into it.”

“I’m not _that_ young,” Yuuri says. Figure skating isn’t a sport you grow old in. There are always teenagers rising through the ranks. Retiring at his age isn’t unheard of.

Victor waves a hand dismissively. “You’re younger than I was.”

Yuuri’s kind of a lot younger than Victor, but in relative terms, yes, there are still a few years between them. Although Victor’s retirement was a bit nontraditional.

“Could you, um.” Yuuri’s not sure how impolite this is. “Could you…turn around?”

“Oh, you want to see the end result of my tragic accident?” Victor sounds far too cheerful. “I’m surprised you didn’t ask earlier.” He swivels on his feet, and even from a lower angle, Yuuri can see the jagged bloody hole at the base of Victor’s head.

It’s only about the size of a quarter. There weren’t any photos of the body, much less the wound. Yuuri’s never seen anything worse than a paper cut. He feels like he should have a stronger reaction to seeing this, but it hardly seems real. Like it’s a very convincing but poorly conceived Halloween costume.

“It only hurt for a couple seconds,” Victor says. “Then everything went black. Did any of the articles give details? I haven’t been able to get a good look at it, and I’m hardly a medical professional.”

“The toe pick went straight into your brain stem,” Yuuri says. “You were supposed to have died instantly.” A couple seconds might not be very long, but it still makes him feel a little queasy.

Victor turns around again--Yuuri’s sort of thankful he doesn’t have to look at it anymore--and looks thoughtful. “I guess whoever performed the autopsy didn’t have a lot of experience with dying,” he says. “I can’t say I recommend it.”

He can’t help it, he has to ask--“What’s it like to die?” Yuuri asks. “And…be dead, and all that.”

“As I said, everything went black. Then after a while I woke up again.” Victor shrugs. “I don’t know what happened in between. Or why I’m still here instead of some other place. Being dead, now, that’s…like being alive, really. But no one can hear you and you can’t touch anything. Honestly, it’s boring. That’s really all I can say about it.”

Yuuri isn’t sure if that’s precisely true, if there really is nothing else Victor could say about it, but he’s not going to push. Victor seems to be doing all right. That’s what’s the most important, when it comes down to it.

“Anyway, enough morbidity,” Victor says. He crouches down so his face is level with Yuuri’s. “If you can skate my program like that, why are you here instead of winning gold at the World Championship?”

“Ah…that’s…” Yuuri tries not to visibly squirm. “I get nervous. Before competitions. So I messed up really bad, and kept messing up, and decided to come home. That’s all.”

“Hrm.” Victor purses his lips. “Nerves are fixable, you know.”

“I know.” That’s why he’s at the rink practicing instead of staying in his room feeling sorry for himself. “I need to get back into shape and figure out what I’m going to do next. I kinda separated from my coach, though.” Yuuri winces at the memory. Celestino wasn’t a _bad_ coach. Things just hadn’t worked out in the end. 

“That’s too bad,” Victor says with a sympathetic-looking frown. “I haven’t seen my coach in twenty years. He’s probably found a new generation of prodigies to yell at.”

Yuuri briefly saw Yakov Feltsman yelling at Yuri Plisetsky in Sochi. Victor’s assumption is pretty accurate.

“You do look like you need to get back into shape,” Victor says, tilting his head with an analytical expression that makes Yuuri feel distinctly uncomfortable. “I hope you have some kind of plan for that?”

“Nothing official or anything,” Yuuri says. “My ballet teacher will probably help.” He hasn’t really thought about it.

Victor _hrm_ s again. “Well, I hope I’ll be seeing you around again,” he says. “Yuuko and Takeshi don’t talk about me nearly as often these days.”

Something occurs to Yuuri. “If I can see you now, why couldn’t I see you back then?” he asks.

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Victor says with another shrug. “Whatever the reason, I’m glad for the change. It gets a little lonely going twenty years without anyone speaking to you.”

That’s when it really hits Yuuri--the accident was twenty years ago. Victor’s been dead for _twenty years._ Stuck in an ice rink in a foreign country, unable to interact with anyone or anything, no one even knowing he was there. For _twenty years._

A _beep_ coming from somewhere startles Yuuri out of his thoughts, and he realizes he just got a text message. His phone is on the table. “Sorry, I’ll get that,” he says, rising to his feet. He barely remembers to put the guards on the skates before walking in them.

_It’s dinnertime. The World Championship results are in. Come back so I can complain about them to someone who understands._

Minako-sensei. Well, it is getting late. His parents probably want to spend time with him after being away from them for five years.

“I should go,” he says. “My family’s waiting.” 

Victor, already standing, nods and says, “Yes, I imagine they want to see you.” His voice is light, pleasant, understanding.

Twenty years, alone.

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” Yuuri says, and the relief that washes over Victor’s face is palpable. 

“Don’t forget to think up a workout regimen,” Victor says. “It’s best to have a set plan for these things.”

Yuuri doesn’t really want to, but he grudgingly admits it would be useful. “I’ll work on it,” he says. “See you tomorrow, Victor.”

“I look forward to it, Yuuri.”

As Yuuri grabs the keys and leaves the rink area, he considers the fact that the last ten minutes have been _completely_ surreal and if he had any sense he’d see a doctor. But nothing bad’s happened. It’s not like Victor told him to kill anyone or something. For now, maybe it’s…okay? To think that he just spoke to someone who’s been dead for twenty years. Sure, why not.

And if that’s okay, it’s okay to think about speaking to him tomorrow, too. And maybe the day after that. There’s so much more he wants to ask--about competitions, about training, about just how much Victor saw of him before five years ago, about…well, a lot of things.

Yuuri jogs back home feeling lighter than he has in months.

Back at the rink, in the darkness and silence he’s almost grown used to, Victor sits against a wall and feels more ecstatic than he has in decades.


	2. Chapter 2

Yuuri gets up bright and early, wolfs down breakfast, and is almost out the door by the time he realizes Ice Castle Hasetsu doesn’t open until 10. Most people don’t want to go skating this early in the day. He settles for going on a run. Hasetsu in the morning in March is bright and sunny but still a bit cold, and as he jogs through the chill he wonders if Victor can feel temperature. He kind of hopes Victor can’t, because being in an ice rink for even a few hours can get uncomfortable, and being in one 24/7 for twenty years is probably actually kind of awful now that he thinks about it. And costumes aren’t really built for insulation.

Once it’s time for the rink to open, Yuuri’s the first at the door. Behind the counter, Yuuko-chan whistles. “Getting back into practice as soon as possible, huh?” she asks with a grin.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Yuuri says, and it’s true; he’d probably be here pretty early in the day regardless. But he’s never been right on the dot before.

As he laces up his skates, he wonders what he’ll say to Victor. _Have a nice freezing cold night? How’s your morning been since they turned the lights on? How miserable is your everyday existence?_

As it turns out, he doesn’t say any of those things, because he’d miscalculated and while he does see Victor the moment he enters the arena, he also sees Nishigori. Who is there, because people work here, because this is a commercial rink and not a private practice area where Yuuri can talk to as many ghosts as he wants without being overheard.

Victor immediately lights up at the sight of him, though, and gives a cheerful wave and a “Good morning, Yuuri!” because of course _he_ can say and do whatever he wants in front of anyone and not have to worry about looking like a crazy person. Because he’s a ghost. Because nobody else can hear him. Or talk to him, or acknowledge his existence, because he’s been dead for twenty years and the only person who _can_ talk to him is worried about looking weird.

“Morning, Yuuri,” Nishigori says. “You feeling all right? You look a little dazed.”

“No, I’m fine, it’s okay,” Yuuri manages. “So, uh, think it’s gonna be a busy morning?”

“Nah, mornings are pretty slow,” Nishigori says. He gives Yuuri a hefty pat on the back; Yuuri only flinches a little. “It’s great to see you again! You here to practice?”

Yuuri nods. In the background, Victor yawns.

“I’ll let you get to it, then,” Nishigori says, and _finally_ exits. As soon as the doors close, Yuuri lets out a deep breath.

“Good morning, Victor,” he says. “Sorry about all that.”

“What for?” Victor tilts his head to the side. “I don’t expect you to say hi to the invisible man when other people are around.”

“Yeah, but…well, anyway.” Victor is standing a few feet into the ice, and Yuuri only now notices that he’s wearing skates. It makes sense, of course, since he died wearing them, but Yuuri just hadn’t thought about it before.

Standing on the ice, in skates and a costume, Victor looks exactly like a figure skater. Which he is, but--he used to be other things, didn’t he? He wore regular clothes and shoes and did things like watch TV or go outside. Victor Nikiforov was a person. And now he’s just a figure skater, forever. 

A figure skater who lit up the moment he saw Yuuri and has now moved to approximately six inches in front of Yuuri’s face.

“You look sweaty,” Victor says, looking him up and down. “Starting that weight loss program?”

“It’s not a _weight loss program,”_ Yuuri protests, annoyance temporarily overlaying the internal scream. “I just went for a run.”

Victor pouts. “That’s no good,” he says. “I told you to get an actual plan together. Have you spoken to that ballet teacher you mentioned?”

Minako-sensei spent last evening drunk and complaining bitterly about Christophe Giacometti’s uncharacteristically lackluster performance. Yuuri didn’t really have the opportunity to talk to her about anything. “Not yet,” Yuuri says. “I’ll see her later today, though.” He hadn’t actually made plans, but, he realizes, he doesn’t want Victor to be disappointed in him. 

“Well, make sure that you do,” Victor says. “Runs are a good start, but you need more than that.”

“I _did_ train for five years,” Yuuri points out. “I know a _little_ about exercise.” The lack of a cohesive plan isn’t really due to lack of knowledge, it’s just lack of immediate motivation.

“How’s your diet?” Victor asks, looking thoughtfully at Yuuri’s lower torso. “Whatever it is, it needs some improvement.”

Yuuri manages not to sputter. “I’ll work on it!” he says in a defensive tone. “I’ve only been back for a day, give me some time!”

“The sooner the better,” Victor says. He finally steps back a little, though he’s still closer than Yuuri would like.

In an attempt to change the subject, Yuuri brings up something that’s sort of been bothering him. “How hard is it to walk on ice skates all the time?” he asks. “You’re not wearing blade covers or anything.”

It’s true, Victor seems to have no problem on the concrete floor off the ice. “I’m used to it,” he says simply. “And it’s not like I have to worry about the blades getting dull.”

Point.

Yuuri wants to ask Victor more, but--he should have expected this, especially with Nishigori as a reminder--a small group of other customers opens the doors and comes in. No more time to talk to someone who isn’t there.

“Go ahead and practice, I’ll just be around,” Victor says, stepping backwards and gesturing to the ice. “I hope you don’t mind if I watch you.”

Yuuri can’t reply, but he wishes he could say _Actually I do kind of mind but also I don’t mind and I’m not sure how to reconcile that,_ but he doesn’t know how to follow it up, so maybe it’s better that he doesn’t.

It’s always hard to practice anything advanced when there are non-competitive skaters in the rink, so he settles for compulsory figures and spins for now. He feels Victor’s eyes on him. Victor Nikiforov, the closest thing to a god in figure skating, is watching him practice. It occurs to him that this isn’t actually the first time--if Victor’s been around for twenty years, he’s been present literally every time Yuuri came here.

Yuuri can’t decide if that’s a relief--Victor’s already seen him make any mistakes and won’t be bothered by them--or terrifying, because _Victor’s seen him make every single mistake_ and probably thinks he’s terrible oh god. He wasn’t _that_ great before he left for Detroit. Victor only remembers him as the kid he used to be. The awkward, unimpressive kid.

“Don’t be so tense, Yuuri,” Victor calls out from across the rink, and Yuuri suddenly remembers that Victor also saw him last night, where he was still kinda awkward but not unimpressive at all.

He relaxes a little. And does a triple toe loop, because he can.

More skaters trickle in over the next few hours. The rink isn’t crowded, but there are more people than he would like, and people’s eyes are always drawn to the guy who seems to know what he’s doing. Besides, practice wasn’t the only reason he came here, and talking to Victor isn’t really possible with other people around. It’s disappointing, but he might have to call it a day.

Once Yuuri’s off the ice, Victor glides over to him, right through a passing skater. The skater doesn’t seem to notice at all. Yuuri wonders if Victor does that a lot.

Nobody’s close to him and he’s facing the wall, so it’s safe for him to whisper, “I should get going. I’ll come back tonight and see if Yuuko-chan will let me stay after hours again.”

“All right,” Victor says, though he clearly looks disappointed. “Your form isn’t bad, but you need an actual program to work on. Once you’ve gotten progress on that weight, that is.”

Victor is never going to let that go, is he. “See you tonight, Victor,” Yuuri says with a weak smile.

As he leaves, he wonders what Victor is going to do for the rest of the day. Just watch the other skaters? Talk to himself, make criticisms no one can hear? Think about better days?

Think about tonight, maybe?

Yuuri’s got other things to do for the next several hours, though, so he tries to put it out of his head for now.

At the rink, Victor stares at the door and thinks about nothing else.

\---

That night, Yuuko-chan greets him at the front counter again. “Back for another round?” she says, eyebrows slightly raised. “I thought you were done for the day earlier.”

“Oh, you know, practice is easier when there aren’t any other customers around,” Yuuri says with a _what-can-you-do_ smile. “I can lock up again, if that’s all right?”

“Sure! You did fine last night, there’s no problem.”

When Yuuri gets back into the rink, he sees Victor skating some program he doesn’t recognize. There’s no music, and the moves aren’t from any of the recordings he’s seen. Victor’s eyes are closed. Well, it’s not like he has to worry about bumping into the barrier. Yuuri doesn’t want to disturb him, and also wants to watch anyway, wants to see whatever it is Victor practices when he’s alone.

Almost a full minute goes by. It’s a mesmerizing routine, but there’s something unbearably sad about it. Victor moves like he doesn’t expect anyone to watch him. Doesn’t _want,_ maybe. He finishes with his head bowed and his arms wrapped around himself.

He opens his eyes when he looks up, and Yuuri wonders for a moment if ghosts can blush, but all he does is give a weary smile and say, “I guess I shouldn’t have been practicing that one if I knew you would return soon.”

“No, it’s a great program,” Yuuri says, shaking his head. “What’s it called?”

“It doesn’t have a name.” Victor skates forward to the edge of the ice. “It doesn’t have music, either. It’s just something I choreographed on one of my moodier days. There’s no particular meaning to it.”

_Liar,_ Yuuri wants to say. _It might as well be screaming._ Instead, he says, “Meaning or no, it’s beautiful. Do you choreograph a lot of programs here?”

“A few,” Victor says airily. “Dozen. Maybe hundred, I don’t know. I have a lot of hours to fill.”

Yuuri’s heart aches. Still, there’s nothing he can do to change the past. The present, though…

He holds out an open notebook. On it is written a schedule for the next week. Not a particularly relaxing one, either. He’s already gotten started--Minako-sensei is very accommodating--and honestly, today wasn’t super easy. But he can’t just sit around.

“One workout regimen,” he says. “A diet plan, too. Does it meet your approval?”

Victor examines it carefully. “Maybe,” he says. “I see there’s no more morning shift for your skating.”

Yuuri shakes his head. “I’d just run into the same problems I did today,” he says. “It’ll be easier to practice in the evening.”

“You can’t reserve the rink for a day?” Victor asks, tilting his head.

“Not _every_ day,” Yuuri says. “I don’t have that kind of money. I’m lucky Yuuko-chan let me in free tonight.” Hopefully she’ll keep doing that.

“Practicing late into the night after a day of weight loss training will put more strain on your body than necessary,” Victor says. “I’d reconsider.”

“It’s not weight loss training! --fine, I’ll go over it again,” Yuuri says, slumping his shoulders. Victor doesn’t really look like he wants Yuuri to reconsider, though. “Anyway, I’m here now,” Yuuri says. “And, uh, I had some questions, if that’s okay?”

Victor puts a finger on his chin and looks up like he’s considering it. “If you insist,” he says. 

“Do you feel the temperature?” Yuuri asks. “It’s pretty cold here, after all.”

Victor shakes his head. “I don’t feel anything at all,” he says. He sounds so casual. “Lucky, aren't I? Or being in an ice rink every hour of every day would be difficult.”

That makes Yuuri feel simultaneously better and somewhat worse. Victor could have chosen a better way to put it. “Do you sleep?”

“Sometimes I fade out for a little,” Victor says. “I guess it’s like sleep. Better than no sleep at all, anyway.”

So he hasn’t been awake for twenty years. That’s good. “You can’t interact with the environment at all?”

Victor leans forward and puts his hand through Yuuri’s chest.

Yuuri yelps and jumps back, but he didn’t feel anything. Not even any cold air. If his eyes had been closed, he wouldn’t have noticed at all.

“Does that answer your question?” Victor asks with a slight smile.

“Y-yeah, thanks,” Yuuri says, trying to will his heart back into a normal beat. “What did you mean when you said you had a feeling you were supposed to meet someone?”

“I meant just that,” Victor says. “I just had a feeling.” He purses his lips. “Come to think of it, I didn’t really notice it until five years ago,” he says. “When you left. I guess something was telling me to wait for your return.”

“And you don’t know what ‘something’ is?” Yuuri asks. He really, really wants to know this one. The idea that there’s a supernatural force connecting him to Victor Nikiforov is bizarre enough on its own, but it being completely unknown is a little scary.

Victor shakes his head. “No idea. I’d like to know myself why it didn’t show up earlier. It would've been nice to have some sort of purpose for the first fifteen years.”

Yuuri feels oddly guilty about that. It’s not like it’s his fault, though. There was never any indication that his life had some kind of deeper meaning. He was just a decent figure skater with bad nerves, that’s all.

And now he’s apparently destined to meet a ghost. Or the ghost was destined to meet him? He has a sudden spark of paranoia that Victor died _because_ he was destined to meet Yuuri and their paths weren’t intersecting properly. Victor did die in Yuuri’s home town, after all, and coming to Hasetsu in the first place was almost random. But he shakes off the idea; it won’t get him anywhere.

“Any more questions?” Victor asks, peering at him, and Yuuri realizes he’s been silent.

“…are you really okay?” Yuuri asks hesitantly. “I mean, you’ve been alone here for twenty years. But you seem pretty normal. I don’t know if I’d be as blasé as you about everything.”

“There were a few years in the middle where I went insane, but I got better,” Victor says in an alarmingly flippant tone. “I’ve decided it’s better to spend eternity in a decent mood than a bad one. The only thing I can affect is myself, after all. I should at least be able to manage that.”

Yuuri kind of wants to know more about that first part but also really, really doesn’t, so he decides not to think about it. 

He wants to ask more. He wants to ask why Victor lied about the program being meaningless; he wants to know what else Victor is lying about. He wants to know what Victor thinks about being tied to him. He wants to know if Victor’s sick of that costume yet.

But he doesn’t want to force Victor to talk about stuff he doesn’t want to talk about. And there’s probably a lot of that.

So he just says, “Thanks, that’s all I’ve got for now. I’m gonna try practicing one of my old programs to start off.”

He can’t tell whether or not Victor’s relieved. But he’s pretty sure Victor’s being genuine when he smiles and says, “Oh? I’d like to see that.”

The sound system isn’t on, so the program isn’t really complete, but Yuuri remembers the muscle movements well enough. Not well enough to do it with his eyes closed, but hey. Reach out _there,_ glide _there,_ triple flip _there--_

The triple flip collapses. Yuuri doesn’t get back up quickly enough; if the music had been playing then he’d be off the beat, and it’s hard to catch up. Besides, this is practice. It’s okay to mess up. Figuring out how to fix messing up is what practice is _for._

“You’re tense again,” Victor says, suddenly too close to him again. “I thought it was competition where the nerves come out, not practice?”

Yuuri doesn’t really want to say that he’s tense because Victor Nikiforov is watching him. It was hard enough this morning, when there were other people to theoretically get in the way, but now he’s the only other person in the room. Victor is focused solely on him. It’s a little stressful.

“I was never that great with this program anyway,” Yuuri says. “I shouldn’t have started with it. I don’t know why I did.” _Because_ Victor Nikiforov is watching him, probably. It’s a little more complicated than his usual programs. He kinda wanted to look cool. He hadn’t, though. Breathe deep; Yuuri remembers that Victor liked his performance of “Stay Close to Me”. Victor’s _signature_ program. And he thought Yuuri did a good job at it. Maybe Yuuri doesn’t need to try to impress him that much.

Victor tuts. “Start slow,” he says. “Don’t throw yourself into it just yet.”

_Just yet, huh._

Yuuri thinks back to an earlier short program. The one he used in the Grand Prix before the last one and didn’t get any medals with. Not that there’s only one of those in his career. It’s less intense, though, better to start out with before he moves on to programs that initially got him medals but then didn’t get him anything at all ever.

Now he’s back to being tense again.

Relax, relax. No judges, no competitors. Not even a coach. An audience of one person who just wants to see him perform out of curiosity.

Yuuri breathes in, and moves forward.

Afterwards, he wipes the sweat off his forehead and looks over to Victor, who’s thankfully on the other side of the barrier. “Better, right?” he asks.

“I've seen worse,” Victor says. “Why weren’t there many jumps?”

“I’m better with program components,” Yuuri says. “I _can_ do jumps, I just flub them a lot. You saw with the triple flip.”

He was better at it in the past, when the stakes were lower. Once he made it to higher stages, though, he started faltering. Being merely okay at something wasn’t enough, not when everyone else was so much better. He managed to hold onto program components, since he _was_ good at those, maybe really good, but technical elements fell to the wayside and haven’t come back.

“I saw you do my program, too,” Victor says with a slight smile. “Even if you made the quads triples, there were a lot of jumps.”

“Yeah, well…” Yuuri tries not to squirm. “That one was kinda important to me and Yuuko-chan, so…I guess I had more personal investment in it.”

He doesn’t mention that he’s probably seen “Stay Close to Me” over a hundred times in the past fifteen-odd years. The library tapes got pretty worn down.

“And you don’t have personal investment in programs that were designed specifically for you?” Victor asks, raising an eyebrow.

Yuuri cringes. “Not…as much…” he says. Excitement over actual training to be a competitive skater hadn’t quite measured up to childhood obsession. Nothing ever beat an afternoon with Yuuko-chan watching old tapes and trying to copy moves a ten-year-old and a twelve-year-old couldn’t possibly do.

Now, though, he has a mix of the two: programs designed for him, and his idol standing there in the metaphorical flesh.

“Maybe it’s time to put away old memories,” Victor says. “What you need is a _new_ program. I’ve got a few, as I mentioned. You could borrow one if you want.”

Yuuri stands stunned. Skating “Stay Close to Me” was one thing; everyone in the competitive skating world has seen it, even if not as many times as Yuuri. Skating a Victor Nikiforov program that no one has ever seen, that no one besides Yuuri even knows exists…

…is more confusing than it is exciting, to be honest. It doesn’t feel real. It’s a concept, not a possibility. 

But Victor doesn’t look like he’s just throwing it out there. He looks nervous, like maybe it would mean just as much to him as it would to Yuuri, or even more so. 

Yuuri thinks about Victor choreographing programs no one could see, and says, weakly, “Yeah, okay.”

Victor gives a huge grin. “Excellent!” he says. “There were a pair of songs I’d been thinking about before I died, but I never got the chance to do anything with them. Until I had all the time in the world, anyway. Of course, I don’t have the music with me anymore. But I’ve seen people here listening to music on their cellphones. You might be able to track the songs down.”

Music from the early nineties? It’s not impossible, Yuuri supposes. People put lots of stuff on YouTube. “What are they?” he asks.

“Two arrangements of the same song--“On Love: Eros and Agape”,” Victor says. “They have different themes, so at first I wasn’t sure which to use. But since then I’ve had the opportunity to choreograph both of them, though without the music itself.”

Yuuri skates over to the entrance and picks up his phone off the table. Victor follows suit, peering over his shoulder. Yuuri unlocks his phone, opens up the YouTube app, and taps in _on love: eros and agape_.

A lot of things that don’t look relevant appear, but there’s one result that seems promising--Yuuri taps on it, and it begins to play a blank video. Through his phone’s tinny speakers, a song emerges.

Text appears informing him that it’s ON LOVE AGAPE. The music starts off serene, almost melancholy, a graceful voice singing in a language he doesn’t speak. There’s something pure-hearted about it, even as it grows more dramatic. As the final strains fade, Yuuri taps the video to pause it. It’s only halfway through, but that version is clearly over.

“Agape is unconditional love,” Victor says directly into Yuuri’s ear; Yuuri yelps and jumps to the side. Victor only laughs. “Self-sacrificing, spiritual. Love from God, or from a parent to their child. More pure than romantic love. The Greeks said there were seven types of love--agape, philia, storge, philautia, pragma, ludus, and eros. Please, continue the video.”

Yuuri taps it again, and as ON LOVE AGAPE fades away, ON LOVE EROS appears. An entirely different set of strings dances out through the speakers. It’s hardly recognizable as the same song. No singer this time, just wild instrumentals that wouldn’t be out of place in a tango. There’s nothing pure or spiritual about it.

As the video ends, Victor purrs into Yuuri’s ear, “Eros is sexual love. All-consuming to the point of distraction. Something so alluring it makes you lose control.”

Yuuri’s too frozen to jump away. He can almost feel Victor’s warm breath against his skin, though there’s none to speak of. Without the benefit of touch, he can’t tell how close Victor’s body is to his.

“I haven’t performed either of those programs in a while, but finally hearing the music again brings them back,” Victor says, at a more reasonable distance. Yuuri turns around. Victor is standing in the middle of the ice. There’s something soft in Victor’s expression for a moment, but it is quickly replaced with another grin. “Play the video again, I want to show you.”

Yuuri nods and hits replay. “Agape” begins once more.

As the first notes echo into the cold air of the arena, Victor begins to move.

Seeing him perform the unnamed program almost unsettled Yuuri. It hadn’t felt quite right. Victor had said he choreographed it on one of his “moodier days”. Yuuri can barely imagine what those must be like. But “Agape”, while soulful, is far freer. It doesn’t feel like something made for no one else to see. Maybe that’s because Victor was already thinking about it before he died.

Free doesn’t mean easy, though. Victor Nikiforov was never known for moderation. Yuuri swallows-- _this_ is a program meant for _practice?_ Done correctly, “Agape” would be a guaranteed win at any competition. And Victor is very much doing it correctly.

The song finishes, as does Victor. He looks over at Yuuri with a smile, lowering his arms from the finishing position. “Look doable?” he asks.

Yuuri wants to give him an incredulous look, but that wouldn’t do any good. “I’ll do my best,” he says, hoping his best is good enough. “What’s the next one?”

Victor gives a sunny smile. “Let’s give eros a whirl,” he says.

Yuuri resumes the video.

Immediately, Yuuri knows he’d rather do “Agape”. Victor can pull off moves like that, but with Yuuri it would just be stilted and awkward. Alluring just isn’t his thing. A story about a playboy and a beautiful woman unfolds before him, and Yuuri can’t see himself in it at all.

When Victor finishes, he skates over to where Yuuri is and says, “So, Yuuri, what are your thoughts on “Eros”?”

Yuuri’s pretty sure Victor doesn’t just mean the program, but whatever. “I think I’m more suited to “Agape”,” he replies. ““Eros” doesn’t really…fit me.”

Victor skates around him, looking him up and down. Yuuri feels deeply uncomfortable. “I don’t know about that,” Victor says. “I think you could pull it off.”

Yuuri puts his phone back down on the table. _Victor doesn’t know me all that well,_ he tells himself. _He’s just seeing things._

_Some days, Victor saw you more than your parents did,_ another part of him points out.

_That was five years ago. I’ve changed a lot since then._

_Have you, though? And isn’t that the problem?_

Victor doesn’t seem to have noticed Yuuri’s inner conflict. “Whichever one you want, you won’t be able to express it properly until your body can handle it,” he says. “So that weight loss program--”

_“It’s not a weight loss program!”_

“--should be your first priority for now. I think you’ll be better off doing basic training while you’re here. Besides, a hard day of work plus late-night skating won’t mix well. You can choose between “Agape” and “Eros” when you’re ready.”

A wave of vague irritation goes through Yuuri’s mind. “What are you, my coach?” he asks.

Victor looks at him wide-eyed for a moment, then smiles brightly. “I suppose I am!” he says.

Yuuri does not know what to say to that.

Victor holds his chin in his hand in thought. “Obviously I can’t go with you to competitions, but we’ll work something out. And we’ll need to come up with a free program, too. This is going to be _fun!”_

This will be _terrifying_ is what Yuuri _wants_ to say, but then he has a series of thoughts:

1) Victor Nikiforov wants to coach you  
2) You do not have a coach  
3) You need a coach  
4) _Victor Nikiforov wants to coach you_

And also

5) You are literally the only person in Victor’s life right now and he probably wants to spend as much time with you as possible

So he doesn’t have a choice to do anything besides mumble, “O-okay” and watch Victor beam.

The evening starts off profoundly surreal. Yuuri’s only spoken to Victor for a total of fifteen minutes in his life, and was only aware of Victor watching him for a few hours; actually being coached by him, learning from him, is…well, _initially_ bizarre. Then it turns out, well. Whether or not Victor is a _good_ coach remains to be seen. But he’s definitely not an _easy_ one.

“Yuuri, your free leg is too stiff.”

“Yuuri, I can hear you overthinking this.”

“Yuuri, can’t you stretch your leg a little higher? I’d give you a hand, but, well.”

Yuuri’s about to fall over by the time his phone beeps. Another text message.

This time it’s Mari asking him when he’s coming home. He already ate dinner, and told her he’d be training at Ice Castle, but--when did it get this late? He’s never practiced this late before. Moreover, he’s exhausted. Victor had a point about skating late after a long day.

“I should get going,” Yuuri says, wiping the sweat off his forehead. “It’s pretty late.”

“Is it? I can never tell.” The rink does have windows, but no clock. 

“Yeah, I’m beat,” Yuuri says. He picks up the blade covers and sits down to put them on. “You were right. I should ease up during the day if I’m going to come here every night.”

“Every night?” Yuuri glances up. Victor has a small smile on his face.

“If you’re my coach, I should see you pretty often,” Yuuri says.

“I’ll see if I can fit you into my schedule,” Victor says. He isn’t literally glowing, but it’s a near thing.

Yuuri stands up and stretches his arms over his head with a yawn. Oof, the exhaustion is setting in. “All right, I’m off,” he says. “Have a good night.”

“You too, Yuuri.”

Yuuri’s too tired to jog back to the inn, so he just walks. He can tell he’ll be sore in the morning. But he’s not too worried by it--it’ll be a sign that he’s finally starting to get back together. A new plan, a new coach--a very unexpected new coach--everything’s on the up and up.

At the rink, Victor closes his eyes and skates to the memory of a song he thought he’d never hear again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter contains mentions of past animal death. Not in a depressing or violent way, though.

Minako-sensei is…excited, to say the least, to help Yuuri with his new training.

“Ready to shed those extra pounds and get back to what a figure skater _should_ look like? I’ve wanted to do this since the moment I saw you in the airport and noticed something was up under those bulky clothes. Let’s get started! The sooner the better!”

Every plie is more of a trial than it should be, but Yuuri ends the session feeling the good kind of tired, the accomplished kind, the _look-I-did-something-hard-and-I-made-it_ kind. As he chugs a bottle of water, Minako-sensei watches him and says, “You found your motivation quickly, huh.”

Yuuri drains the last drop and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Huh?” he says.

Minako-sensei leans against one of the studio walls, her arms crossed. “The day after you come back, you’ve already thought up a workout plan to get back into shape,” she says. “You jump right into morning runs and hours of practice. I’m not complaining, mind you. You just seemed so dismal at the airport, and now you’re raring to go. What happened?”

“Uh…I guess I just figured I shouldn’t wait around,” Yuuri says. “I can’t just lie in bed waiting for inspiration. Getting back to work is the only way to get results.”

 _I wasn’t in bed when I found inspiration,_ he doesn’t say. _I was at a skating rink being insulted by a ghost._

“Whatever it is, I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Minako-sensei says. “But don’t push yourself, all right? I heard you didn’t get back home until late last night because you were at Ice Castle practicing.” A concerned look falls over her face. “You’ll just hurt yourself if you overdo it.”

“I know, I know,” Yuuri says wearily. “Evening practice is just easier for me right now. I’m not overexerting myself there. It’ll all even out when I get my weight back to where it was at the Grand Prix Final.”

And then he can _really_ practice with Victor, work on a program choreographed by the greatest figure skater in the world, build himself from the ground up into someone who won’t crack from fear of failure. Maybe his expectations are too high. Hopes, then. Something to cling to instead of just standing around.

“As long as you know what you’re doing,” Minako-sensei says. “Now get a move on! That gut isn’t going to flatten itself!”

 _You’d think_ one _of my teachers could be nicer about it,_ Yuuri thinks glumly.

\---

When it’s dark out, the rink is almost ethereal. The bright overhead lights and the stark white floor underneath the ice contrast with the darkness outside the windows, making the room seem like it’s set apart from reality. The rest of the world doesn’t exist right now. The presence of someone who also doesn’t exist outside the rink doesn’t help.

“Do you ever miss the outside world?” Yuuri asks. He promptly regrets it; of course Victor does. And Victor might not like being reminded of it.

But as always, if Victor does mind, he hides it well. “I spent most of my time in various ice rinks anyway,” Victor says with a shrug. “I didn’t have many friends when I was alive. I guess I miss having music to choreograph with, though of course that’s changed now that you’re here.” He gives a dazzling smile, but it falters. “I do miss my dog, sometimes,” he says quietly.

“Makkachin?” Yuuri asks. Some of the old articles mentioned his name, though not many.

Victor gives him a quizzical look. “I didn’t think anyone would remember him,” he says. “Did something happen to him after I died?”

Yuuri shakes his head. “Not that I know of,” he says. “None of the articles published after your death mention him.” 

“Oh, well.” Victor’s smile is small and weary. “I didn’t expect anything. Now let’s get to training, shall we?”

It’s more of the same as last night, though Yuuri isn’t as tired, since he didn’t skate in the morning. Still, Victor seems a little bit off. Not quite distracted, just…off. Yuuri doesn’t really know how to describe it.

An alarm, not a text, is the signifier when it’s time to finish. Yuuri already told his family when he’d be back. It’s not as late as it was last night, but it’s still later than Yuuri’s trained in the past. Having a coach you can only talk to after-hours is inconvenient.

Yuuri has an idea while he’s putting on his blade covers. “If you want, I can try to look up what happened to Makkachin,” he says.

Victor’s smile this time is far more genuine. His whole face lights up. “Really? That'd be great, thank you!”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to find anything, but I’ll definitely try,” Yuuri says. Sure, he’s probably read every single article ever published about Victor in English or Japanese, but he never searched for anything specific before. Maybe there’s something on the internet.

“Anything at all would be helpful,” Victor says. He hesitates. “Well, nothing bad. I hope there’s none of that.”

“I’m sure nothing bad happened to him,” Yuuri says. “Someone probably took him in.” Nobody would let a famous athlete’s beloved pet die in the streets, would they?

“In any case, thank you,” Victor says. “It'd mean a lot to me.”

Yuuri thinks about the photo of Vicchan on the family altar. Not being there when Vicchan died was hard enough. He can’t imagine what it would be like to not know what had happened to him at all.

Surely there’s _some_ info somewhere. Yuuri resolves to find it.

\---

 _This would probably be easier if I spoke Russian,_ Yuuri thinks grimly as he goes through search results for, variously, _“victor nikiforov makkachin”_ , _“victor nikiforov dog”_ , _“what happened to makkachin”_ , _“what happened to makkachin victor nikiforov”_ , and so on. Some of the articles are in English, a few in Japanese, a few in Chinese, and various other languages, but most of them are Russian. Yuuri knows a very few Russian words, but they’re not helpful--knowing Victor’s name in Cyrillic tells him nothing if the article already has a picture of Victor, same with _“skate”_ and _“Russia”_. He briefly thinks about asking Yuuko-chan, but she doesn’t know any more than he does and would wonder why he’s so curious anyway.

Google Translate at least helps him get a rough idea of what’s in a given article, but not where to look in the first place. Then he has an idea. Yakov Feltsman was Victor’s coach, and is still working today; Yuuri saw him at Sochi. Coaches don’t exactly have fan sites, but…

With a certain amount of glumness, he types in _“yuri plisetsky email”._

There’s a fanclub. Of course there is.

The club has a website, and the website has an email address Google Translate tells him is _“official contacting managing email”._ Maybe Yuri Plisetsky has a manager? It’s the best shot he’s got, so he hopes whoever’s address it is speaks English, and sends:

_Hello,_

_My name is Yuuri Katsuki. I’m studying Victor Nikiforov for a project. Since Yuri Plisetsky’s coach is Yakov Feltsman and Mr. Feltsman was also Victor’s coach, I hope I can contact Mr. Feltsman for information on what happened to Victor’s dog Makkachin. If he could please send a picture it would be best._

_Thank you for your time,  
Yuuri Katsuki_

Hopefully it’s enough. 

That evening, he tells Victor about it.

“Yakov was never that fond of me,” Victor says with a sigh. “Or, well, I guess he was, in his way. I wasn't easy to coach. It’s good to know he’s found someone new to yell at.”

“He’s been pretty successful since your death,” Yuuri says. He does one last leg stretch before getting onto the ice. “He practically runs his own rink. There’s a lot of top-class skaters there, too.”

“When he was coaching me, he was an up-and-comer,” Victor says. There’s a nostalgic look in his eyes. “He always complained that being my coach would send him to an early grave. He probably stopped using that phrase, though.”

“You know, Russian skaters put flowers on your grave for good luck,” Yuuri says. “I don’t know if it does any good, but they do it anyway.” He definitely didn’t think about doing that when he was in Sochi. It would’ve been too long a drive to St. Petersburg, anyway.

“Do they!” Victor looks genuinely delighted. “I hope it does something. What does my grave look like, anyway? Anything interesting on the gravestone?”

Well, this conversation isn’t morbid at all. “Uh, gimme a sec, I’ll find a picture,” Yuuri says, moving back to his phone and picking it up. He opens Google Images and searches _“victor nikiforov grave”_.

A lot of similar images pop up. He taps the one that looks clearest.

It’s a nice place. Not a fancy tomb or anything, but there’s a bit of space between it and the other graves. Yuuri doesn’t know what the gravestone says, besides Victor’s name and what he assumes are the dates of birth and death, based on the numbers. _December 25th 1968 - May 19th 1996_

The anniversary of his death is only a couple months away, huh.

Yuuri glances at Victor, who’s standing next to him, looking at the screen. “What does it say?” Yuuri asks.

“It’s just a family thing,” Victor says. “Nothing interesting.” He isn’t smiling anymore. He just looks tired.

Change of subject time!

Yuuri turns the phone off and puts it back down on the table. “Minako-sensei said I found motivation quickly,” he says. “Everyone else is surprised too. Even I am--it’s not like I expected any of this. How about you? It must’ve been a surprise when I talked to you.”

The tiredness slips off Victor’s face, into a softer expression. “Not when you spoke, no,” he says. “It was when you began my program. As I watched, I thought, _oh, it’s you._ Then my thoughts became more jumbled. It took me a few minutes to get myself together. So when I spoke to you and you replied, it wasn’t surprise that I felt.”

“Yeah?” Yuuri asks, not quite sure what to say. “What was it?”

Victor’s smile is bright, but a little sly, too. “More along the lines of overwhelming joy.”

“Um,” Yuuri says eloquently.

Victor’s laugh fills the room. “We should get back to training! You’ve got a long way to go before you’re ready to choose between God and desire.”

“Wh--” 

But Victor’s already off on a tangent. Yuuri resigns himself to a long night.

\---

To Yuuri’s surprise and relief, a response to his email comes the next day.

_Hello Yuuri Katsuki._

_I am Yakov Feltsman. Victor’s dog was adopted by his family. It died fifteen years ago. They have sent a picture. Yuri Plisetsky said to tell you he will crush you. Have a good day._

Attached is a photo of a large brown poodle draped over the lap of an elderly woman sitting on a couch. The woman is smiling and seems to be looking at whoever is taking the photo. It’s a peaceful scene, quiet and domestic. The poodle’s tongue is sticking out.

Yuuri downloads the photo onto his phone, and decides not to think about Yuri Plisetsky.

\---

That night, Yuuri tells Victor about the email and shows him the photo.

The tips of Victor’s insubstantial fingers hover over the phone’s screen, not quite touching Makkachin. “I was never good at making friends,” Victor says softly. “Makkachin was the closest friend I had. He was a very tolerant dog, too, never minding how clingy I got. On rough days, just being around him was relaxing.”

Ghost or no, in this moment, Victor looks incredibly human.

Victor looks at Yuuri. “I think he would've liked you,” he says with a small smile. “Thank you for bringing this to me.”

Yuuri smiles in return. “I’m glad I could help,” he says. “I had a dog, too. I know what it’s like.”

“I’d hug you if I could, but, unfortunately, I can't,” Victor says, sighing. “Being a ghost is so inconvenient.”

“That’s, that’s fine, don’t worry about it,” Yuuri manages. “Let’s just, um, get to work?”

The rink is as cold as ever, but somehow, for the entire session, it feels full of warmth.

\---

A few days later, when Yuuri arrives at the rink, Victor gives him an appraising look and says, “You’ve lost weight.”

 _Hello to you too, Victor._ “I’m finally back to where I was at the Grand Prix Final,” Yuuri says. “Is that good enough? Can I try a program now?” He doesn’t want to sound brusque, but it’s been a rough week. Minako-sensei’s just as harsh a teacher as Victor, in some ways, and he misses eating food he actually enjoys.

Victor skates up to the edge of the ice. “We’ll see how you do. Have you thought about which one you want yet?”

There’s no question. ““Agape”,” Yuuri says. “I wouldn’t be any good at “Eros”.”

“Ah, but the purpose of teaching is to help someone learn what they don’t know,” Victor says. He moves uncomfortably close to Yuuri again, inches away. Yuuri could count every eyelash if he wasn’t too frozen to pay attention to anything besides Victor murmuring, “Eros isn’t something only a specific type of person can express. Anyone has it within them, if they know where to look. You have an alluring side, Yuuri; you just have to find it. I’d love to see it, when you do.”

Yuuri doesn’t quite remember how to breathe. Victor doesn’t seem to notice, though, and moves back with a smile. ““Agape” is off the table,” Victor says. “From what I’ve seen of your family over the years, you’re not unfamiliar with unconditional love. It’s desire that you need. Once you find what eros is to you, you'll begin to understand the soul of this program. Until then, we start with the skeleton. Play the video, and let’s begin.”

If anything, the program is even more intimidating now that he has to actually do it. The arm movements at the beginning are stiff and awkward when Yuuri tries them, not at all as fluid as Victor’s. He can’t muster the right facial expression for the look at the audience, either. He tries, and it’s not like he can’t move at all, but he just can’t express what he needs to. Victor obviously had a point.

By the end of the session, Yuuri’s tried and frustrated and just wants to pass out and wake up in a world where everything is easy and he knows exactly what to do. He’ll settle for just passing out. At home, though.

When Yuuri turns off the alarm on his phone, he asks, “You said you fade out sometimes. What’s that like?”

“It’s like sleeping, but I don’t dream,” Victor says. “And it’s not a full eight hours at night. Sometimes it happens during the day. Not since you came back, though.”

So Victor hasn’t dreamt in twenty years. Maybe that’s for the best. Yuuri thinks there probably would have been some bad ones in there, over the decades of isolation. Especially during those “years in the middle” that Victor mentioned.

Suddenly, Yuuri has a memory. He was eight, maybe nine, and he’d stayed at the rink with Yuuko-chan until closing time. She’d left with her parents, but his hadn’t arrived yet; maybe there were a lot of guests that evening. It’d been a long day for an eight-year-old, and he could’ve gone to the front area to wait, but he liked looking at the ice when no one else was there, and the end result was that when he sat down against the wall he immediately fell asleep. His mom showed up not long after and scolded him. It was never a particularly interesting memory, but now…

Oh, god. “You were there that time I fell asleep here, weren’t you,” Yuuri says, mildly horrified.

Unfortunately, Victor looks delighted. “You remember!” he says. “It was the most adorable thing I’d seen in years. I did feel a little creepy watching you, but no one was there to judge me. Until now, that is. I hope you don’t mind.”

Yuuri minds a _lot,_ actually, but. “It’s not like I can do anything about it now,” he says, resigned.

“For the record, I’m glad you specifically are the one I’m supposed to meet,” Victor says. “You came here so often with Yuuko and Takeshi. I think I knew you better than I did anyone. Even when you were gone, Yuuko and Takeshi would talk about you. I missed you during those years. It wasn’t the same without you coming by nearly every day.”

Yuuri misses the days before he entered Juniors. Everything was a lot easier back then. School was pretty boring, but he could skate without feeling pressured. It was something he did for fun, not something that left him a bundle of nerves all the time.

Easier doesn’t mean better, though. Just different. And now he has something else he didn’t have back then.

Victor’s smile is unbearably fond, and something in Yuuri’s stomach squirms.


	4. Chapter 4

Eros.

Errrr-ooos.

Yuuri tries to think about it on his morning run, and comes up with nothing. There just isn’t anything in his life that’s particularly alluring. Even if it doesn’t have to be sexual (which is good, because there’s even less of that), his life is decidedly lacking in obsession. _“All-consuming to the point of distraction”,_ Victor had said. What distracts him? What keeps him from thinking properly?

It’s kind of ironic that trying to think about what distracts him distracts him from not running into a telephone pole.

He _ow_ s and rubs at his nose, hoping it won’t bruise. It isn’t bleeding, at least. If this was right before a performance, he’d worry more than he is now; looking bad now is annoying, but the prospect of looking bad in front of an audience is nerve-wracking. Does Victor count as an audience? Probably not; Victor’s seen any time he faceplanted against the barrier as a kid. Or teenager.

Being a kid, being a kid. Was there anything that he did in his childhood that lasted until now and counted as distracting? He was a pretty straightforward kid--is a pretty straightforward adult, really, even if he doesn’t feel like an adult half the time. He liked skating, he liked Victor, he liked Yuuko-chan. He didn’t like school. He liked his mom’s cooking. He didn’t like all the exercise he had to do to stay in shape, but he needed to stay in shape for skating, and skating was pretty much the most important thing. Yuuko-chan and Victor and skating were all connected, and when it came down to it, there wasn’t anything he wanted that wasn’t related to that. It was okay that he wasn’t good at school, it was okay that he couldn’t make friends, all he wanted was--

\--no.

It cannot possibly be that easy.

Yuuri thinks about all the afternoons spent not doing homework, and crawling through months of mental anguish without truly giving up, and comes to an almost laughable conclusion.

That night, he tells Victor what it is.

To Victor’s credit, he doesn’t laugh. “To you, eros is figure skating,” he says. “Interesting.”

“I kind of thought you’d make fun of me,” Yuuri says, looking at the ground. “I know it sounds like I couldn’t think of anything.”

“No, no, it’s an intriguing idea,” Victor says. Yuuri looks back up. Victor’s holding his chin, a familiar pose. “I can’t say it’s unrelatable. Desire and performance are closely connected. To want the audience to look at you, to want to prove that you’re worthy of their attention--it’s easy to get lost in it. Interesting. Yes, I think we can work with this.”

Yuuri’s still kind of self-conscious about it, but if Victor thinks it can work, then maybe it will? 

Instead of using his phone for the video, Yuuri shows Victor a CD. “I ripped the audio from YouTube and burned the second half onto this, so we can just use the CD player here,” he says.

“I’m going to pretend I understood all of those words,” Victor says brightly.

There are several seconds of silence on the disc before the music starts, since Yuuri needs to be in the middle of the ice but Victor can’t exactly press play on his own. In those seconds, Yuuri breathes deep, and runs through the thoughts he had on the way to the rink. He just needs to express them. He’s more or less got the mechanics of the program down, he just needs to give them a soul. Show the theoretical audience what consumes him. 

The music starts.

Yuuri begins to move, and the thoughts flow through him.

 _I’m the best skater on this stage. This is where I belong, this is who I am._ In the glance towards the audience, he looks directly at Victor. He can’t tell over the sound of the music, but he thinks Victor whistles.

 _There’s ice in my bones, there are blades in my feet, I live and breathe to skate. Without it, I--_ no, don’t think like that. _I’m pouring my soul into this. I’m laying myself bare._

When Yuuri’s done, Victor claps and says, with a huge grin, “A more alluring sight I’ve never seen. You just had to find it within you. It didn’t even take you that long. You’re a marvel, Yuuri.”

Praise from Victor doesn’t seem real. Yuuri lowers his arms and stands awkwardly in the middle of the arena. Moreover, “alluring” is…well, it’s probably good Victor’s off the ice, so he can’t do one of his no-personal-space things that make Yuuri’s brain fritz. 

“Of course, there’s room for improvement,” Victor continues. “Just because you’re beginning to grasp the soul of the program doesn’t mean you’re perfect with the technical side. That triple axel--”

Victor goes on for a while. Yuuri only wilts a little bit. But if figure skating was easy, no one would spend months practicing. And besides, finding perfection so quickly would feel cheap, somehow. He has to _earn_ improvement.

Improvement and spending more time with Victor, whose criticisms are accompanied by a hint of pride in his eyes.

\---

“Don’t you ever take a break?” Yuuko-chan asks, eyebrows raised, when she hands him the keys for the tenth night in a row.

“I’d just feel useless if I stayed at home doing nothing,” Yuuri says, which is actually true, if not the entire reason. “My parents and Mari-neechan don’t really need the help. If it’s a choice between sitting around aimlessly or practicing here, I know which one I’d choose.”

“That makes sense, I guess,” Yuuko-chan says, though there’s still a bit of worry in her eyes. “Take care of yourself, okay? This place has seen enough accidents.”

“I don’t think those exact circumstances are likely to repeat themselves,” Yuuri says in a wry tone.

Yuuko-chan flaps her hand at him. “You know what I mean. Just remember there are plenty of people who care about you.”

It’s hard to remember that, sometimes. When it feels like the ice and the impatient audience and the cold-eyed judges are all there is in the world. When the roaring maw of failure can’t be drowned out by a few cheers. But it’s nice to get a reminder.

While Yuuri’s stretching, Victor asks, his tone light, “How many people went to my funeral?”

“Uh, I don’t know the exact number,” Yuuri says, a little creeped out but willing to run with it. “A lot? There aren’t any videos of it. There was a photo in the next day’s paper. Hasetsu kind of kept track of you for a while. Your parents were there, and Yakov Feltsman, and some other skaters, but there were a lot of fans and reporters in the background. It was hard to tell, but I think some of the fans were crying.”

“At least I can't say I was underappreciated,” Victor says. Yuuri can’t tell how real his smile is.

Victor’s silent for a minute or so while Yuuri finishes stretching. Finally, he says, “I was going to retire after the next season.”

“That’s a pretty popular theory,” Yuuri says. He sits down to lace his skates. “A lot of people think that tour was a last-ditch effort sort of thing. So it was?”

There are actual conspiracy theories dedicated to Victor’s motivations. Some of them are reasonable. Some of them involve lizard people.

“I was hoping to find inspiration,” Victor says. “What I found was a poorly placed toe pick.” He gives a bone-dry smile. “Though the stops in Russia and China were pleasant enough. But I couldn’t find what I was looking for. I decided that if I still hadn’t found it by the end of the summer, I would get my last batch of gold medals and go live somewhere quiet. Become a recluse who never saw anyone but his dog. I guess I did get some of that. Certainly there aren't many reporters around me these days.”

Yuuri remembers what Victor said about deciding it was better to spend eternity in a decent mood than a bad one. Times like these, that sounds like a very good idea.

“But enough of that,” Victor says. “Just because I’m extremely retired doesn’t mean you are. Let’s delve back into eros, yes?”

It’s good to be _good_ at something again, even if only in part; even excluding the technical issues, Yuuri’s grasp of eros is still missing something. But it’s more than he had just a few weeks ago. Back then, endless failure weighed him down to the point where even trying seemed useless. Here, though, being able to do something _right,_ something being _easy--_

“Makkachin could do a better spread eagle than that, Yuuri.”

Well, not _that_ easy. But still a far cry from when it felt like even basic skills were beyond him.

Figure skating as something that consumes him, huh.

It’s not wrong.

\---

Minako-sensei’s eating dinner with them tonight, and while it’s winding down, she fixes Yuuri with an inscrutable stare and says, “What do you _do_ all evening, anyway?”

Yuuri swallows one last bite of not terribly enjoyable broccoli and says, “Practice. The same stuff I used to do.” He hesitates. Well, he could mention _something._ Leaving Victor out of it. He’ll have to do it eventually anyway. “Actually, I’ve been putting together a short program,” he says.

Minako-sensei lights up. “That’s great!” she says. “You’re choreographing on your own now? I guess there’s no coach to do it for you, huh.”

Yup. Definitely. “I thought I’d give it a try,” Yuuri says with a weak smile. “I found this music online, and it just seemed to fit. I’m not ready to show it to anyone, though.”

“When you are, let me know,” Minako-sensei says. “I may not be a pro, but I can at least give you another set of eyes.” Said eyes are gleaming. Yuuri recalls that Minako-sensei hasn’t seen him perform since Nationals. She’s probably a little pent up about it.

“That’d be great, thanks,” Yuuri says, because it’s what he _would_ say, if the choreography was in fact his. He’d welcome any help he could get. But it’s _not_ his, and suddenly it hits home that Yuuri is going to have to pretend to be a lot better choreographer than he actually is. He can’t exactly tell anyone who _really_ made it.

Victor will understand, though, won’t he?

“Do you have any costume plans?” Minako-sensei asks. “Wait, I guess it’s a little early for that.”

“Little bit, yeah,” Yuuri agrees. He has no idea, anyway. 

That evening, Yuuri asks, “Are you going to be okay letting everyone think I’m the one doing all of this?”

“I have to be, don’t I?” Victor says, raising an eyebrow. “Although I am, don’t worry. I’ve had enough fame in my life. I’m fine letting someone else take the spotlight.”

Yuuri rubs the back of his head, his mouth twisting. “I don’t know,” he says. “It feels like cheating to me. Everyone’s going to think I’ve been hiding some hidden talent.”

Victor glides across the ice in a wide arc. “Tell them you found inspiration from returning home,” he calls out. “Seeing where you came from gave you a new perspective on your career, and you decided to reinvent yourself from the start.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted to do?” Yuuri says. “Kind of, anyway.”

Victor circles back around to where Yuuri is, and looks at him. “Somewhat, yes,” he replies. “Though I didn’t have much luck. Hopefully you’ll do better.”

“I don’t know if I’d have a chance at all if you weren’t here,” Yuuri admits. He doesn’t like to think about it, but he does anyway. He’d try, of course he’d try, but he’s no choreographer. Maybe he would have asked Celestino again.

“Then maybe I would've done better if you were there, too,” Victor says with a soft smile. “From one inspiration to another.”

How does Victor always manage to make Yuuri’s words disappear? It feels like half the time, Yuuri doesn’t know how to reply to the things Victor says. Instead, out in a rush comes “So I told Minako-sensei I was working on a short program and she asked if I had any costume ideas yet but I don’t, do you?”

Victor blinks. “I hadn’t really thought about it,” he says. “When I was first thinking about the songs, I had vague ideas, but they never came together. I don’t suppose you know any designers?”

Yuuri shakes his head. “Celestino always chose my costumes,” he says. “I guess I could ask him if he’s got any spares. I don’t think any of my old ones fit this program, though.” None of Yuuri’s previous programs are like this one, and he needs a look that matches it.

“You know, _I_ have some old ones that might work,” Victor says with a thoughtful expression. “Though I don’t know if they’re still around. I used to have a storage unit for all my old costumes. You should email Yakov about what happened to it.”

Yuuri isn’t sure if Yakov Feltsman will be as cooperative as he was last time, but worst case, he’ll just say no. And there’s a good few months left before the qualifying events for the Grand Prix Final start. They’ve got plenty of time to find something.

\---

_Hello Mr. Feltsman,_

_Thank you again for your help with my project about Victor. If it’s not too much trouble, could I also ask you what happened to Victor’s costumes? If they’re still around, would it be possible for me to borrow some? I know this sounds creepy, but I’m from Hasetsu and I’m trying to study Victor to connect to my home town. Costumes from his younger days would especially be helpful._

_Thank you for your time,  
Yuuri Katsuki_

Yuuri really, really hopes Yakov Feltsman doesn’t think it’s too creepy. 

\---

_Hello Yuuri Katsuki._

_Victor’s family has some of his costumes. They are happy to know their son is still remembered. What is your address?_

\---

“People don't remember me?” Victor asks when Yuuri shows him the email. “I thought you said my grave was popular.”

“I think you’re seen more as a symbol than a person, honestly,” Yuuri says. “Most places aren’t as thorough in their records as Hasetsu. No one’s written anything new about you in years.”

“Once, I was a living legend,” Victor says with a dramatic sigh. “Now I’m just a legend.”

“A-anyway, it looks like they’ll be sending some of your stuff over soon,” Yuuri says in an attempt to slightly change the subject. “I hope it’s in good condition.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it, my parents are very conscientious,” Victor says. “Strict at times, but ultimately proud of me. The fact that they took in Makkachin is proof enough.”

There isn’t much public information about Victor’s parents. Yuuri kind of wants to ask, but that’d be rude, and anyway he wants to get back to the program. He’s still missing something, and he wants to figure out what it is soon.

\---

“Yuuri,” his mom calls out hesitantly from the front room, “were you expecting a package?”

“Yeah, did they get here?” Yuuri asks in return, making his way from the dining room to the door. When he arrives, he’s momentarily stunned.

Victor’s parents are very devoted to their son’s memory, apparently. The pile of boxes outside the inn towers over Yuuri, almost blocking the door. 

“What did you _order?”_ his mom asks, putting one hand on the side of her face and staring in bewilderment.

“Uh, I’ve kind of been studying Victor Nikiforov lately and I asked his parents if they could send over a few of his old costumes, but I didn’t expect… _this,”_ Yuuri says. How is he even going to get them all in his room?

He ends up piling some on his bed in addition to practically carpeting the floor with the rest. The boxcutter becomes his new best friend. As he opens one box after another, staring in wonderment at the pieces of history unfolding before him, he realizes that Victor’s parents must have kept _everything._ “Ultimately proud of me” indeed.

There is one that doesn’t seem to be there, though. The one Victor is currently wearing a ghostly replica of. Well, it’d be a little morbid of them to have kept that one.

Yuuri goes through outfit after outfit. Most are too big for him; Victor got taller and broader than him fast. But the ones from Juniors and his first couple years of Seniors look like they’d fit. White, light gray, blue, purple, all with varying degrees of sparkle; the costumes got more masculine as time went on, but not the early ones. There’s probably something psychological in there that Yuuri doesn’t feel up to unpacking.

He’s seen most of the outfits in various videos and photos, but one of them stands out immediately, one he and Yuuko-chan both admired--black and gray, inset with large shards of fake crystal down one shoulder and across the waist, a piece of cloth like a skirt draped from one hip. There’s a half-and-half look to it, like two aspects coming together. Yuuri takes one look at it and thinks, _this one, I want this one._

He takes pictures of the clothes-strewn disaster his room has become, and carefully folds his choice and puts it into his backpack.

\---

 _“All_ of them?” Victor says in disbelief.

“Just look at the pictures,” Yuuri says. “They must have been big fans of yours.”

“That, or they couldn’t let me go,” Victor says airily. “So, this is the one you want? I remember it from my early days.”

Yuuri decides to ignore that first sentence. “Yeah, it just seems to fit,” he says.

“Since I could pull off androgyny back then, the designer wanted something that represented both masculinity and femininity,” Victor says, examining the black and gray fabric. The crystals shimmer under the overhead lights. “Go ahead, try it on. I want to see how you look in it.”

Yuuri feels more than a little awkward putting on Victor’s old clothes, but they do fit in a literal sense. He puts his own clothes to the side in the skate changing room and comes back to the arena. 

Victor whistles. “I knew it,” he says. “You’re a sight to see.”

“In a good way?” Yuuri asks, a little hesitant, because there are a couple different meanings there.

“In an _excellent_ way,” Victor replies with a grin. “Now run through the program again. Maybe you’ll find what you’re missing.”

 _Masculinity and femininity,_ Yuuri thinks while the opening notes play and his arms move. _Duality. Skating. Desire. Performance. What was that story about the playboy? He seduces a woman and leaves. Masculinity and femininity. Desire._

_You’re a sight to see._

_Not desiring something, inducing desire in someone else._

_Not the playboy who wants the woman, but--_

As he finishes the program, he realizes he needs to talk to Minako-sensei.

\---

The next evening, he’s sore from a long day in the ballet studio, but isn’t that half the point? That he’s willing to work himself to the bone for skating. Especially like this. Eros, all-consuming; “Eros”, being willing to drive his body to its limits to prove that he deserves to be consumed.

He’s not entirely sure what to do with that line of thought, but whatever, he’ll make it work.

“You’ve got a spring in your step,” Victor observes as soon as Yuuri enters the arena. “Find something interesting?”

Yuuri flashes a smile. “Maybe,” he says.

As the music starts, Yuuri _moves._

It feels _right,_ even better than it did when he realized what eros was; he layers in the new thoughts, and it _works,_ it _works._

_Look at me, look at me. I’m the best skater on this stage. This is where I belong, this is who I am, and who I am is someone who you want._

_There’s ice in my bones, there are blades in my feet. I live and breathe to skate. Isn’t that inspiring? Doesn’t that take your breath away?_

_I’m pouring my soul into this. I’m laying myself bare. Look at me, and I’ll show you. I am consumed by figure skating, but_ you _are consumed by_ me.

When Yuuri lowers his arms from the finishing position, Victor looks slightly dazed.

“That’s something interesting, all right,” Victor manages. “Where on earth did you learn that?”

“In a ballet studio,” Yuuri says brightly.

“…clearly I should have spent more time in those.”

Being able to surprise Victor buoys Yuuri like nothing else. This program, this music, this costume--Yuuri loves them all more fiercely than anything he did in competition. It’s new, it’s strange, it barely makes sense to him, but it feels _right,_ deep in his bones. 

Scarcely a month after his return to Hasetsu, and rebuilding himself from the ground up feels more and more doable.


	5. Chapter 5

One night, when practice is winding down, Victor says, “Have you ever chosen your own music?”

Yuuri wipes the sweat off his forehead and leans against the barrier. “I thought about it once,” he says. “When I was in Detroit, I asked one of the music students to compose a song for me. It wasn’t that great, though, so I didn’t use it. And after that I just didn’t bother thinking about it.”

“Oh? Do you still have it?” Victor asks, the curiosity evident in his eyes. “I’d like to hear it if you do.”

“I think so,” Yuuri says, and grabs his phone, unlocking it and searching through the music folder. He hasn’t listened to it in years, but he couldn’t bring himself to delete it; even if it wasn’t very good, the music student had worked hard on it. “Here you go.” He taps on the name, and it starts to play.

It starts out okay, but Victor’s interest dims quickly. “I can see why you didn’t want to use it,” he says, once it’s done. “Does it have a theme?”

“Um.” Yuuri hesitates. Why is it awkward to say? “My skating career,” he admits. “So it’s actually pretty fitting that it isn’t that great.”

Victor purses his lips. “I don’t know, there’s some potential,” he says. “I think it just needs some work. Why not ask her to try again? You need a song for your free program, and it’s been a while since I heard any music besides what they play here during special events.”

That’s right, Ice Castle Hasetsu’s sound system doesn’t get much use outside of warnings when it’s almost closing time. So the reason none of Victor’s recent choreographies have accompanying music is because he literally hasn’t heard any. Yuuri files this away under the mental folder titled _things about Victor I don’t like to think about because they’re incredibly depressing._

It’s a very large folder, and it keeps getting bigger.

“I don’t remember her email, but I’ll ask around,” Yuuri says. He does know someone who could probably find her.

“Regardless of the music, you’ll need choreography,” Victor says, and grins. “Even when I was alive, it’d been years since I last designed a program for someone besides myself. I’m looking forward to the challenge. Since you can do a quadruple Salchow, do you think you’re up for three quads?”

Yuuri isn’t entirely sure about his ability to do a quadruple Salchow in an actual competition, given that his recent increase in success has only been in practice, but with how bright Victor looks right now, he can’t bring himself to say no.

\---

It’s late when he gets back, and he really should go to sleep, but Yuuri stares at his phone anyway. Goes to Instagram on a vague hope. Not that vague, really; Phichit spends about 40% of his waking hours there.

The most recent photos are from the last few hours, given the time difference and the fact that the photo before them is a dinner selfie. Phichit always did like to practice late, same as Yuuri, and the photos are of him in a rink, so maybe there’s hope? Yuuri texts him:

_hey, you up? okay to video chat?_

Not even a minute later, Phichit responds

_yes!!! i’ll get on skype now_

Yuuri hurriedly opens the Skype app and waits. Not for very long; Phichit’s online immediately. Yuuri taps his name and is greeted by a happy-looking guy in an ice rink.

“Phichit-kun! Sawasdee krab,” Yuuri says, hoping his pronunciation is even halfway correct. He and Phichit have always spoken in English, since Phichit’s Japanese was limited to a few words and Yuuri’s Thai was nonexistent. But they’ve at least managed to teach each other some basic stuff over the years.

“Yuuri! It’s been a while. How have you been?”

“Pretty good, actually,” Yuuri says. “You’re practicing back in Thailand, huh?” The last time they spoke face-to-face was in Detroit, which feels like a lifetime ago now.

“Yeah, Detroit’s boring now that you’re gone,” Phichit says. Aw. Phichit’s always been a regular ray of sunshine. Good roommate, too. “Oh, you should come visit Bangkok. I’ll show you around.”

Yuuri’s never been one for tourism, but hanging out with Phichit was always easy, even on rough days. Spending time with him on a vacation doesn’t sound too bad. Except he’d have to leave Victor alone for a few days, so maybe not.

“Khob khun, kup,” Yuuri replies with a noncommittal smile. “Hey, Phichit-kun, do you remember how I had a music demo made?”

“Oh, yeah! By the conservatory student? You asked her to compose it, right?”

“Yeah. It got shelved in the end. Things got awkward with her after that.” He winces at the memory. It was really nice of her to make it in the first place.

“Oh, I see…” Phichit says, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I’ll put out feelers to see where she is. I’m sure she’s not mad or anything.”

“Thanks, Phichit-kun,” Yuuri says. “It’d be a big help.” He probably could find another song somewhere, but. He’s kind of starting to get into the prospect of redoing a view of his skating career. It’s very metaphorical.

“No problem! So what’s up with you these days, anyway? You practically fell off the grid when you left Detroit. You could at least like some of my photos, you know.” Phichit fake-pouts. Yuuri has never seen Phichit annoyed a day in his life.

Yuuri laughs. “I’ve just been busy, that’s all,” he says. “Um, I started putting together a short program. It’s taking up a lot of my time.” He’s going to have to get used to lying. Although that one’s mostly true.

Phichit looks even more excited than Minako-sensei. _“Really?”_ he practically screeches. “That’s so great, I hope it works out! Is that what you need the music for?”

“No, it’s already got a song, I need one for the free program,” Yuuri says. “I’m making one of those too.” Very definitely by himself, yes, absolutely.

“Wow,” Phichit says, a big doofy grin on his face. “I really hope you get assigned to the Grand Prix! I want to see your stuff, I bet it’s cool! Oh, I’ve gotta tell Coach Celestino about this. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” Yuuri says, hoping it really is okay. Celestino will find out about it eventually. Maybe it’s better that he hears it through Phichit, who will undoubtedly phrase it in the most positive way possible.

Honestly, seeing Phichit is a breath of fresh air. He loves practicing with Victor, but it gets a little claustrophobic, not being able to see him outside the rink or even talk about him to anyone. It’s good to talk to another skater with a tangible existence.

There are a lot of reasons he wants to go to the Grand Prix, but not all of them are related to success.

\---

Phichit comes through.

_Hi Yuuri,_

_It’s great to hear from you again! Or about you, I guess. I know things seemed kind of awkward after you didn’t use the demo, but I was more disappointed in myself than anything. It’s not your fault I didn’t make a good enough track. I was really happy when you got to the Final! It’s a shame stuff hasn’t been working out for you, but Phichit says you’re getting back on your feet, so I hope I get to see you on TV again soon._

_I would be happy to rework the demo. It’s been bugging me anyway, I don’t like making mistakes. When do you need it by?_

\---

_Hi Yuuri,_

_Here’s the track! I hope it works for you, I’m proud of this one. Let me know how it goes. I look forward to seeing you on the Grand Prix!_

\---

Yuuri listens to it, and it’s _perfect._

It’s much stronger than the original, and he can see a story in it he couldn’t see before. Not a skating career that goes nowhere, but one that starts alone and slowly builds into something much greater when joined by something else. He _wants_ this story. “Eros” reflects one part of him, and this reflects not just the rest of him but who he wants to be in the future. It’s _perfect._

He wants to show Victor immediately, but it’s too late to go to the rink. He’ll have to wait until tomorrow evening. Until then, possibility buzzes under his skin, and he has a hard time falling asleep.

\---

As the first notes leave the CD player, Victor starts to grin, and it only gets wider by the time the track finishes.

“You have good friends, Yuuri,” he says. “This is exactly what you need. What’s the theme?

Yuuri swallows. He spent a lot of last night trying to put it into words; he doesn’t want to stumble now. And he really only needs three of them. “On my love,” he says. Not just eros, not even agape. _His_ love, with _his_ career, _his_ life. 

Victor beams at him. “That’s the best theme there is,” he says.

A few months ago, Yuuri wouldn’t have thought about it. His themes were weaker, vaguer. But here, with Victor, with everything new he’s becoming and everything he never knew he was--everything feels much more real than before. _He_ feels much more real than before.

The choreography’s already more or less done; he’s been practicing it with Victor for a while now. Adding the music only heightens it.

When they’re done for the night, Yuuri takes the CD out of the player and picks up a felt pen from the table. “Does it have a name?” Victor asks, peering at it.

Yuuri writes it down on the CD. He spent a lot of last night thinking about this, too.

_“Yuri on Ice”._

“Perfect,” Victor says, in a fond tone. “You’re on a roll today, Yuuri.”

Praise from Victor always warms him, but tonight there’s a tinge of _of course I am._

\---

_The assignments are up!_

In Detroit, everyone always spent that night holed up with their laptops and their roommates. Yuuri has not terribly fond memories of Phichit helping him through a near anxiety attack. Twice. Now, Yuuri’s by himself in his bedroom, his family already asleep. Minako-sensei’s probably going to call him any minute now. 

The words on the screen are simultaneously exhilarating--he’s in! he made it!--and terrifying, because they’re a stark reminder that competitive skating isn’t just practice in a local ice rink. He’ll be facing actual people, in front of an actual crowd, with actual judges. It’s been months since that last happened. Hell, it’s been over a month since he was even on the ice with anyone tangible. Nobody’s seen his programs but Victor.

The Cup of China.

The Rostelecom Cup.

And--he winces--before them, the Chugoku, Shikoku, and Kyushu Championship to make up for his string of failure.

But it’s okay! He can do this. He can very definitely not let the fact that all the other skaters have much better and more official training than him bring him down. He can…

He can talk to Victor.

Tomorrow.

\---

“That’s fantastic!” Victor says, the following evening. He’s practically vibrating; Yuuri can tell that he really, really wants to hug him. “What’s that last one, though? You don’t sound excited about that.”

“It’s a qualifying competition,” Yuuri says. “I have to place in it if I want to keep my spot in the Grand Prix. Because, uh, I kind of…failed miserably at Nationals.” Has Victor ever had to do a qualifying competition? Yuuri’s pretty sure Victor’s never gotten below bronze in anything ever at all.

“I see, I see,” Victor says, nodding. “If that’s in September, we’ve got plenty of time to get you ready for something as minor as that. Regionals are small fry. You’ll blow them out of the water, don’t worry.”

Yuuri’s not _that_ worried. Not about regionals, anyway. It’s more the principle of the thing. Moreover, since Victor can’t go with him, he’ll be alone there. Minako and Nishigori will support him from the stands, but ultimately, he’s on his own.

They’re really going to have to figure out what to do about that.

\---

May 26th arrives on the calendar like any other day.

When Yuuri was little, he and Yuuko-chan had a retrospectively somewhat creepy tradition of watching every recorded performance of “Stay Close to Me” they could find. Yuuri’d tried to convince his mom to make borscht. It never happened. Victor’s birthday was one thing, and already tied into other celebrations, so they never really did anything for that. But nothing else happens on May 26th. Probably there are other people around the world who do something, like maybe Victor’s parents, or anyone else who particularly idolizes him. Or maybe everyone else just lets it rest. Along with him.

Victor was 27 on May 26th, 1996, and has remained 27 ever since.

Technically, anyway. Now he’s 47. But he doesn’t look it.

Yuuri arrives at the rink with a little trepidation. He and Victor haven’t really talked about dates, beyond days of the week. But since assignments for the Grand Prix went out a couple weeks ago, Victor surely knows it’s late May by now.

Victor is leaning against the wall when Yuuri comes in; it’s the only thing he can sort of interact with, given that he can’t walk through it and thus it’s a solid surface for him. He waves. “Good evening, Yuuri,” he says.

“Good evening,” Yuuri repeats. How should he bring it up? Casually, or…? “How do you tell what day it is?” Sure, why not.

“I don’t,” Victor replies. He straightens up and starts heading towards the ice. “I know when holidays are, if the rink does anything,” he says. He phases through the barrier like it’s nothing. Yuuri still isn’t used to that. “Decorations during Christmastime and Valentine’s Day. More children and teenagers during the summer. People mention the new year. Unimportant days, however, I don’t know unless I hear someone say it.”

Yuuri hesitates. He wants to be diplomatic, but…

“And since the assignments went out not long ago, I can only assume you’re bringing this up because this is the day I died,” Victor says cheerfully.

“…yeah,” Yuuri says, wincing.

Victor stretches his arms out and flexes his fingers together. “Well!” he says. “I have to say this is the first time I ever knew exactly. You and Yuuko always mentioned the assignments when they came out, and sometimes you mentioned my anniversary later, but you never said anything about it happening that particular day. So it’s been exactly twenty years since my death. Almost down to the hour, too, since it’s the evening.”

“…happy anniversary?” Yuuri says, and instantly regrets it.

Victor’s laugh is far too bright. “Something like that, yes. At least this year’s is much better than the previous nineteen.”

Normally Yuuri would awkwardly smile when Victor said things like that, but today he just feels disquieted. He knows a little about what it’s like to fake it. During the months after the Final, there were a lot of times he had to pretend to be fine when he wasn’t. And Victor’s behavior is way too familiar.

“Hey, let’s just skate for today,” Yuuri says suddenly. “No programs or anything. Just the way people normally do when they come here.”

Victor raises an eyebrow. “Tired of practice?” he asks.

Yuuri shakes his head. “No, just a break,” he says. “Everyone needs those sometimes.”

“If you insist,” Victor says with a shrug. “I guess one evening off won’t ruin your physique _too_ much.”

They don’t talk for a while. The only sound is the scrape of Yuuri’s skates against the ice. Not Victor’s, obviously. He never leaves a trace.

Eventually, Victor says, “I didn't do well the first few days after I woke up here.”

Yuuri stays silent.

“I knew what had happened--my last memories made it obvious enough, not to mention checking and finding a somewhat serious injury at the back of my head. No one else was here. I assume they closed the rink for a while.”

Almost a month, Yuuri remembers Yuuko saying, and then he realizes that that means Victor barely even saw anyone for that long. 

“Unable to leave, and with no one else present, I came to the conclusion that I’d ended up in a very different place,” Victor continues. “But custodial staff came by a few days later, and I doubt Hell has janitors. It still wasn’t an ideal situation, but at least I didn’t have to try to figure out which behavior of mine was worthy of damnation. I didn’t go to church after I left home.”

Yuuri’s stopped skating, but Victor hasn’t. The only sound in the rink is his voice, now.

“Once people started returning, I gradually settled into my new existence. It was nice to watch people enjoy skating. I hadn’t really enjoyed it for a while myself. No one here was competitive; no one here was training, no one here was worrying about getting old. Everyone was just here to have fun.”

Victor’s staring off into the distance at something Yuuri can’t see. “No one was especially _good,_ either, but they didn’t care. When someone fell, it made their friends laugh, not cringe. Most of the people here couldn’t tell you what a quadruple flip even was.”

He turns back to Yuuri with a smile that’s just as bright as the earlier ones, even brighter, almost blinding, but far more real. “And then there was _you,_ Yuuri,” he says.

“You and Yuuko and Takeshi, but mostly you, since they were never interested in being competitive. You _loved_ skating, even when it was hard, even when you were clearly miserable. I barely remembered what it was like to love skating that much. Watching you reminded me of why I started, and why I so desperately wanted to regain it. You literally made me feel alive again.”

There are things Yuuri wants to say-- _you’re welcome? I’m glad I’m not boring? Haha, what?--_ but he’s struck dumb by the gentleness in Victor’s voice.

“So, yes, this year’s anniversary of my death is better than usual, because not only are you back, I can actually speak to and be heard by the person who made my unlife more bearable,” Victor says, a soft smile on his face. “I can't possibly thank you enough. Helping you reach the Grand Prix Final is a small gesture, compared to that.”

Finally, Yuuri finds his voice. “Pretty big for a small gesture,” he says. 

Victor waves a dismissive hand. “Nonsense,” he says. “You're more valuable than you know. Once you’ve truly realized it, winning the Final will be a breeze.”

Yuuri doubts that’s true, but it’s nice to think about anyway. If only because Victor believes it. If Victor Nikiforov, the greatest figure skater in history, the idol of countless skaters across the world, believes Yuuri is important, then…well, it’s something, at any rate.

“…let’s skate for a while longer,” Yuuri says. “It’s getting cold just standing here.”

Victor gives a theatrical half-bow. “As you wish,” he says. 

The rest of the evening isn’t as heavy, but somehow, Victor seems more content than Yuuri’s ever seen him.


	6. Chapter 6

There are two things Yuuri needs to do before the Chugoku, Shikoku, and Kyushu Championship:

1) Get another costume, and  
2) Find a way to be in contact with Victor outside the rink

The first one is actually pretty easy.

_Hello Coach Celestino,_

_How have you been? I’m sure Phichit-kun’s told you what I’ve been up to lately. I know I’m not your student anymore, but can I ask a favor? Victor Nikiforov’s parents sent me some of his old costumes, so I’m using one of those for my short program, but my free skate is more personal to me, and I want something that was made for me specifically. Could you please get in contact with my old costume designer and have her design one for me? I’ll pay. I can send you the music if she needs it._

_Thank you very much,  
Yuuri Katsuki_

\---

_Hello Yuuri,_

_I’m doing well, thank you. It’s good to hear things are improving for you, though I must confess I’m on the cautious side here. You never showed any inclination towards choreographing your own programs before. But you’re one of the best skaters I’ve ever worked with, and if you think you can win with what you have, I’d be delighted to see it._

_I’ve spoken to your designer. She’s willing to make another costume for you, though she does want to hear the music first and know the theme. Don’t worry about the money. I paid for all the other ones, I can pay for this one too. I look forward to seeing you at the Cup of China._

_Sincerely,  
Celestino_

\---

The second one, surprisingly, is actually not all that difficult either.

Yuuko-chan stands at the far edge of the rink, away from the door. “What do I do now?” she asks.

Yuuri hands her a pen. “When I leave the room, write something on your hand,” he says. “A word or a number or whatever, just make sure that it would be visible to someone standing in front of you. You don’t need to call out to me when you’re done, I’ll know.”

“Okay,” she says, her expression showing a little confusion but also a willingness to run with it.

Not long after Yuuri closes the door behind him, Victor calls out, “She’s done.” He re-enters. “She drew a flower on her right hand,” Victor says with a smile.

“You drew a flower on your right hand,” Yuuri says. “That’s right, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is,” Yuuko-chan says slowly. “What’s this about, Yuuri-kun? Are you trying to learn magic tricks now?”

Yuuri shakes his head. “Let’s do it again,” he says. “Write whatever you want.”

The second time, it takes a while longer. Eventually, Victor says, “She’s not writing anything. Clever, really.”

Yuuri tries not to laugh. “You didn’t write anything,” he says.

Yuuko-chan raises her eyebrows. “No, I didn’t,” she says. “How’d you know?”

Instead of replying, Yuuri says, “Okay, ask me about something that happened in this room that I couldn’t possibly know about.”

“Um…” Yuuko-chan purses her lips. Suddenly, she blushes. “What happened when Takeshi proposed to me?”

Unconcerned with appearances, Victor laughs out loud and says, “When he put the ring on her finger, he slipped and fell forward, pulling her down with him. They seemed happy anyway, though.”

 _He proposed to you_ here? Yuuri thinks, equally scandalized and impressed, and repeats what Victor said.

Yuuko-chan’s eyes widen. “Yuuri-kun, what’s going on?” she asks.

Yuuri takes a deep breath. Now or never. “This rink is haunted by the ghost of Victor Nikiforov,” he says.

To her credit, Yuuko-chan doesn’t immediately ask if he’s feeling all right.

“Okay,” she says, her face uncertain. “Does all that prove it?”

“I hope it proves that there’s _something_ in here that can see whatever happens in here but isn’t visible to anyone but me,” Yuuri says. His heartrate rises. _Please believe me, please believe me…_

“And that something is Victor Nikiforov?” Yuuko-chan asks.

Yuuri nods. “He’s been here since he died,” he says. “Neither of us know why I can see him now, but I can. He’s why I’ve been practicing here every night instead of during the day. If people see me talking to myself, it’ll look weird.”

“It kind of looks weird _now,_ Yuuri-kun,” Yuuko-chan says. She’s visibly uncomfortable, but at least she isn’t backing away.

Yuuri exhales. “Yeah, I didn’t think this would be super easy,” he says. “But I really need your help, and I trust you more than I trust anyone. And what I want your help with isn’t dangerous or anything.”

“What is it?”

“When I go to competitions, Victor won’t be able to come with me, because he can’t leave this room,” Yuuri says. “But the building does have wifi, and I have a laptop and a phone that have Skype on them. If I set up the laptop here, and have it so part of the screen is Skype and part of it is a livestream of wherever I’m at, we can talk to each other and he’ll see what happens while I’m skating. It’ll have to be while everyone’s gone, though.”

Yuuri’s actually kind of proud of the plan. Modern technology is _great._

“So you just want me to leave a laptop on after hours?” Yuuko-chan asks, looking a little less uncomfortable.

Yuuri nods. “Yeah, I just need you to set it up when I leave. That’s okay, right? That’s not too weird or anything?”

Yuuko-chan shakes her head. “That’s not too weird,” she says. “Kind of, but not too much. I don’t know if I really believe you, but…it doesn’t sound dangerous, or even hard, and you haven’t been doing anything bad. Just…be okay, all right? I don’t want you to get in any trouble.”

“Thank you so much,” Yuuri says with a relieved smile. “This means a lot to me. I promise I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

“Oh, if she needs any more evidence, tell her the reason Axel twisted her ankle last year is because she was trying to do a double Salchow, not because she slipped on the ice,” Victor says, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Um, Victor says Axel twisted her ankle trying to do a double Salchow, not because she slipped on the ice, if that means anything,” Yuuri says.

Yuuko-chan’s eyes widen for a moment, then they narrow. “I am _so_ going to talk to her,” she says grimly.

Yuuri feels a little lighter now. Yuuko-chan seems open to the idea, at least, and all that really matters is that she sets up the laptop and doesn’t tell anyone. She’s a good friend, and a good person. He’s not worried.

Possibly Axel should be, though.

\---

“You brought it over here without even opening it first?” Victor asks, eyebrows raised. “What if it’s damaged?”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Yuuri says. He puts the box down on the ground--carefully, though--and kneels down so he can open it. He tries not to be nervous. What if it _is_ damaged? What if--no, just open it.

Once the cardboard is torn open, and the tissue paper moved aside, Yuuri takes out the folded pieces of blue fabric and straightens up so he can see them in full.

“It’s shinier than how it looked in the photo,” Victor says, tilting his head. “But I like the extra touch. It’s a good costume.”

Yuuri’s relieved both that it’s in one piece and that it’s actually here. The Chugoku, Shikoku, and Kyushu Championship is coming up. Wearing one of Victor’s old costumes for a program Victor choreographed years ago is one thing, but “Yuri on Ice” needs something specifically for Yuuri, and it’s a very good thing he could get it in time.

“I’m gonna go put it on,” Yuuri says, and takes it with him to the changing room. 

When he comes back, Victor claps. “Perfect,” he says. “Does it fit properly?”

Yuuri twists around to make sure it’s not too tight. “Yeah, it’s good,” he says. “I think this’ll work.”

“Try it out on the ice, just to make sure,” Victor says.

Yuuri nods and takes off his blade covers. He’d been planning to do that anyway.

He presses play on the CD player and skates out to the center of the ice. As the music starts, he goes through the opening of the program, and finds the costume’s easy to move in. He finishes the program happy with the knowledge that this is going to work, and also that Victor didn’t critique him, even though he flubbed the triple axel again.

“Absolutely beautiful,” Victor says with a smile. “Though that triple axel still needs work.” Ah, there it is. “We’ve got the finishing touches on the program now. You just have to perform, and everyone watching will love you.”

Yuuri decides it’s very definitely the program that Victor is saying is beautiful, and skates over to the entrance to the ice. Everything’s coming together now. Regionals is just the first step, and he’s ready for it.

He rests his back against the barrier, looking out on the ice. “This seems kind of unreal, to be honest,” he says.

“Oh?” Victor looks curious. “Being coached by a ghost isn’t easy to believe?”

Yuuri laughs a little. “That too,” he says. “But mostly it’s hard to believe that this is actually going to happen. I’m going to an actual competition again. My last official one was over half a year ago. And maybe it’s just regionals, but it’s still _something._ I have a new coach, I have new programs and new costumes--well, new for me, anyway--it’s just so much more than I had when I came back here. I don’t think I even expected to have all this. It feels like my life is starting again. And that’s just a little unreal, to me.”

Victor _hmm_ s. “Well, it’ll feel real once you’re actually there.”

“I guess so.” Yuuri stares into space for a moment. “Hold on a second, I promised Phichit-kun I’d take a picture of the costume once I got it.”

As he steps forward, about to turn around, the blades of his skates accidentally bang into each other. Off-balance, his body twists, and he wobbles for a second before starting to fall backwards onto the concrete. He hears a panicked _“Yuuri!”_ before he grabs onto the barrier with his other hand, stopping his fall halfway. Whew.

“I’m fine,” Yuuri starts to say, when he notices Victor’s hands phased through his shoulders. He straightens up, and Victor withdraws, looking haggard.

Yuuri blinks. “Did you try to catch me?” he asks.

Victor runs his hand through his hair in what Yuuri recognizes as a nervous gesture. “For a moment, I forgot,” he says, in an almost hollow voice. “Just--please be careful?”

The realization that Victor has a very good reason for being worried about people falling here hits Yuuri like a ton of bricks. His mouth feels dry. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” he manages. “I’m fine, Victor.”

Victor exhales. He probably doesn’t technically need to, but human behavior is ingrained. “Yes, I see that,” he says. “There’s no need to apologize. I overreacted.”

“No, it’s okay, I get it,” Yuuri says. “Thanks for looking out for me.” It’s the first time he’s seen Victor so scared. He wishes he could do something about it, he wishes so much his heart aches, but he’s helpless. This doesn’t seem like something he can fix.

Victor’s smile is fragile, but at least it’s there. “It’s no trouble at all,” he says. “If you want to thank me, just be more careful coming off the ice.”

Yuuri nods. “Absolutely,” he says.

It hurts so much.

But maybe the fact that there’s someone Victor can worry about in the first place makes it a little better.

\---

Yuuri plugs the earbuds into the headphone jack of his phone and puts them on. There--as long as the screen is angled away from anyone nearby, it’ll look like he’s just having a video chat and doesn’t want to bother anyone with the other half of the conversation.

On the screen, Victor waves. “How’s the reception?” he asks.

“It’s fine,” Yuuri says. The image is a little blurry, but modern technology isn’t quite that far yet. The sound’s good, though. “Are you sure you’re going to be comfortable standing in one spot for this long? It’s gonna be a while before we’re finished.”

“It’s not as if I could get a chair,” Victor points out. “Don’t worry. I don’t experience physical discomfort. I could stand still for days if I needed to. That would probably be boring, though.”

Yuuri glances over at the reporters by the front exit. Another bonus of wearing earbuds and looking at your phone: people assume you’re not interested in speaking to them. Like, say, about why there’s no coach with you. Score.

“Okay, I have to unplug, we’re drawing lots for the performance order now,” Yuuri says. “But I’ll put the phone in my jacket pocket so you can at least hear a little of it.”

Victor nods. “Good luck,” he says.

Yuuri stows the phone and the earbuds in his pocket, making sure to unplug them first so the sound will actually get to the phone. Hopefully there’ll be _some_ sound besides swishy cloth noises. He tries not to move too much while he’s sitting.

The three guys sitting next to him are complete unknowns to him. He doesn’t even know their names yet. He will soon, though. 

When the woman holding the bag with the lot numbers in it holds it towards him, he stands up and rummages through it, hoping he won’t get first. _Anything but the first spot! Not the first spot!_

He gets the first spot.

Glumly, Yuuri returns to his seat.

One of the other competitors, a short young man with eccentric hair, vibrates with apparent glee and says, “I got to see you draw the first spot in person again, Yuuri-kun! I love it!”

…who’s he, again?

“Um,” Yuuri says.

This seems to be the worst possible thing to say. The other skater looks horrified and says, “What, you don’t remember me? What a shock!” while he clutches his head in angst.

When the woman calls for a “skater Minami”, though, his mood immediately swerves and he stands up and declares, “Right here! I’m Kenjirou Minami!” He bounds towards her and plunges his hand into the bag, pulling out a ticket with the number 4 on it. “Yay! I’m going fourth!” he says excitedly.

Yuuri is getting the impression Kenjirou Minami does everything excitedly.

He’s not sure, but he thinks he just heard Victor snicker.

After the drawing, there’s not much time left until the public practice, so Yuuri checks in with Victor. “Is the livestream working?” he asks.

“Yes, they just turned it on,” Victor replies. “I can see the rink, but no one’s on it yet. Is the public practice happening soon?”

“It’s about to start, yeah,” Yuuri says. “I’m gonna zip up my pocket so the phone doesn’t fall out. You won’t be able to hear much. Is there anything you want to say?”

“Just relax, Yuuri,” Victor says with a smile. “Think of the whole competition as a warmup. There’s no real pressure here. Focus on getting your personal best, that’s all.”

Yuuri gives the screen a grim look. “My last time at Nationals was the worst score I’ve ever had and everyone wondered if I was sick,” he says.

“…so there’s nowhere to go but up!”

Yuuri takes advantage of the practice to find out where the camera is. Why is Newscaster Morooka there? This is regionals, the kind of thing that usually just gets local coverage. They’re lucky there’s a livestream, even. But whatever, he looks happy.

Also, Yuuri’s pretty sure Minami’s eyes are digging holes into him even more than the camera is, but he’ll deal with that later. Or maybe he won’t. Yeah, he won’t.

The practice goes well enough; it helps that there isn’t as much of an audience as there will be later tonight. But later tonight eventually arrives, and when it’s time for the actual warmup to start, the outside of the arena is starting to get crowded. 

Once he’s about to change into his costume, Yuuri fishes his phone out of his pocket and puts on his earbuds. “I’m going to change now, so I’ll be away from my phone until I finish my short program,” he says. “But you’ll see me on the livestream, right?” The idea of skating without Victor being there is almost foreign. He hasn’t done it in six months, after all. And of course every time he was in the Ice Castle, all the way back to age five, Victor was there. Maybe not watching him specifically, but still.

Victor nods. “My debut as a secret coach begins,” he says wryly. “I hope you won’t have any trouble with the reporters.”

Pretending to be too busy with his phone to interact with anyone will only last so long. But he’ll manage. They’ve talked about it, after all. Yuuri nods and takes a deep breath. “Okay,” he says. “Okay, I can do this. Anything else you have to say before I start?”

Victor’s smile is lascivious, and he’s leaning closer to the screen. “I may not be there in person, but know that my eyes are on you,” he purrs. “Seduce the audience as much as you’ve seduced me over these last months, and they’ll be eating out of your hand. I know you have it in you. Show them who the real Yuuri Katsuki is.”

Yuuri decides not to think about Victor’s choice of words, and nods again. “I’m gonna go change now,” he says. “I’ll talk to you soon, Victor.”

“I look forward to it, Yuuri.”

As he skates to the middle of the ice, he tries not to notice the people watching him, but then he realizes he _has_ to notice. Even though today is the first day in eight months he’s performed in public, even though it’s the first day in six months he’s performed in front of more than one person, he has to draw the audience in. The old thoughts from practice filter into his mind: _Look at me, look at me._

He positions himself at the correct angle and waits. The first chords of “On Love: Eros” dance out from the speaker. When he starts, the arm movements are mostly facing the camera, but not quite; the glance has to be to the side, after all, and as he glances directly into the camera, he winks.

Hopefully Morooka doesn’t think it’s for him.

The audience doesn’t seem that enraptured yet. Yuuri _could_ let that get to him, or he could just keep going. Victor always told him not to overthink things; he chooses the second option.

Yuuri nails the triple axel, but his quadruple Salchow doesn’t go as well. _Keep going, keep going._ The quad-triple combination doesn’t go perfectly either-- _doesn’t matter, keep going, the audience has warmed up to you, they want you, you’re almost done._

_You’re on the last spin. How did the story end? What happens to the lovers? The woman casts aside the playboy--is that how it went?_

Regardless of how the story went, the program ends to loud applause. He’s done it. His first performance in months--he’s finished it, and the audience is applauding him.

 _“That was so cool, Yuuri-kun! That was awesome!”_ is shrieked across the rink by a voice Yuuri doesn’t recognize. He’ll think about that later--he just wants to hear what Victor thought. But he can’t speak to Victor right now, of course, and his jacket is on the other side of the barrier, where the reporters are.

Maybe he’ll just wait where he is until the scores come out.

 _“The scores, please, for Yuuri Katsuki-san,”_ intones a nigh-robotic female voice. _“His short program score: 94.36. He is currently in first place.”_

That’s almost ten points higher than his personal best--maybe Victor was onto something.

…and _now,_ he has to deal with the reporters.

“While this won’t be an official record, this would’ve been among the top ten scores in the world!” Morooka declares, which throws Yuuri a little. Really? That’s--really? “Skater Yuuri Katsuki, how have you managed to improve so much without a coach?”

Yuuri swallows. Go time. “When I came back to Hasetsu, I didn’t really have any plans,” he says. “I started studying Victor Nikiforov mostly out of boredom. The rink I skate at is where he died, so he’s sort of a local legend anyway, and I felt like I could reconnect with my hometown and brush up on figure skating history at the same time. Since he choreographed a lot of his own programs, I started thinking about trying that myself. And I just sort of…did.” He laughs a little. “I don’t think I’m as good as he was, but I learned a lot just from trying. I guess what I really needed was some time by myself.”

“And what about your costume? Is that a recreation of what Victor Nikiforov wore at his last Junior World Championship?”

“Uh, it’s actually the original one,” Yuuri says. He doesn’t need to pretend to look sheepish; it happens anyway. “I got in contact with his coach about some stuff, and I ended up asking if I could look at some of his old costumes. His parents sent a bunch of them over. Since it was his memory that inspired me to produce my own programs, I thought it was fitting to use one.” _Please don’t be creeped out please don’t be creeped out_

“I see, I see,” Morooka says, looking like Yuuri’s just relayed a deeply revelatory tale. “I’m sure he’d be proud to have inspired that performance just now.”

 _I can ask him about it once you stop talking to me,_ Yuuri doesn’t say.

Eventually, the reporters disperse to watch the next skater. They’ll be back, but for now, Yuuri takes the opportunity to dash to the changing room and grab his phone.

He puts in his earbuds and says, “What did you think?”, trying not to sound breathless. It’s the first official score Victor’s ever seen him get--he’s a little nervous.

Unfortunately, Victor doesn’t look impressed. “The first half was great, but you focused too much on jumps in the second,” he says. “Your performance got sloppy.” Yuuri’s heart sinks just a little bit. He’s right, though.

“The score was pretty good, though,” Yuuri says. _Among the top ten scores in the world, apparently._

Victor sighs. “Since there’s no pressure, I thought you’d get into the hundreds,” he says. 

_I might be wearing your clothes, but I’m not_ actually _you,_ Yuuri doesn’t say.

The reporters descend again once the last score is announced, Yuuri hastily putting his phone away. They ask some rote questions--how do you feel about your free skate? are you worried about the competition?--but they’re interrupted by an excited “Oh!” as Kenjirou Minami discovers Yuuri’s presence.

“Did you see my “Lohengrin” performance?” he asks, his eyes wide and eager.

“I was being interviewed, so I didn’t,” Yuuri says. “Sorry.” He actually is a little sorry. Watching the other skaters would have been preferable to trying to come up with good answers for the interviewers.

Minami wilts. “I even had a similar costume made to the one from your famous “Lohengrin” program,” he says morosely, opening his jacket to reveal a familiar mess of sparkles.

Oh god, Yuuri’d _hated_ that one. It was from early in his career, and the sequins weren’t sewn on right; they kept coming off during practice. “That’s a costume from my dark past…” he says in horror.

Once again, this seems to be the wrong thing to say. Minami’s expressive eyes turn blazing and a little teary. “You don’t have a dark past!” he declares in a fervent tone. “Don’t make fun of me for looking up to you for so long and trying to catch up to you!” He points at Yuuri like he’s throwing down a glove. “I’m gonna give tomorrow’s free skate everything I’ve got! Please give it all you’ve got too, Yuuri-kun! I won’t forgive you if you slack off!”

Yuuri tries not to wince. He was hoping this competition would be low-stress. He really doesn’t need to be called out by some kid.

Morooka seems to love it, though. “Skater Minami’s issued a challenge!” he says into the mike. “At last year’s Nationals, Kenjirou Minami finished ahead of skater Katsuki.”

Wait what.

Low-stress, _sure._ Being reminded of Nationals--being reminded of how badly he’d self-destructed--is bad enough, but being face-to-face with someone who _didn’t_ self-destruct is a stomp right onto his nerves.

“His first senior division competition will be a clash over the changing of the guard! Here in Okayama, skater Katsuki will face him with the first public performance of his free skate program!”

He notices that Minami’s coach is there too, a youngish woman with a resigned but happy look on her face. All Yuuri has is a phone. A phone he can’t even look at right now.

No, stop that, Minako-sensei and Nishigori were in the audience too. Coach or no, Yuuri isn’t alone. In unusual circumstances, yes, but the presence of Kenjirou Minami doesn’t mean anything. This isn’t last year’s Nationals. 

_Show them who the real Yuuri Katsuki is._

Not someone who’s scared of a kid, at any rate.

\---

The next day, before the warmup, Minami looks like he’s on fire--until Yuuri ignores him and goes straight to the ice without a word. Then he looks like someone ran over his cat.

The warmup itself goes all right, but when he pulls out his phone to see if Victor has anything to say, he’s alarmed to see Victor already disapproving. “I could _hear_ the distress on that boy’s face,” Victor says, his mouth in a flat line. “How can someone who can’t motivate others motivate himself? I’m disappointed in you.”

Well, now Yuuri’s confused about how exactly he should handle Minami, but he _does_ know that he doesn’t like the pit in his stomach that just opened up.

Is he supposed to ignore Minami because Minami is unimportant and shouldn’t be stressed over? Is he supposed to care about Minami because Minami is his fan? What’s the balance here? How much confidence and how much empathy is he supposed to have? Minami _isn’t_ important, not really, but--

Well, he’s still a person.

A person who idolizes someone, and boy does Yuuri know what that’s like.

As Minami heads out into the ice for his free skate, Yuuri takes a deep breath, puts his hands around his mouth, and yells, _“Good luck, Minami-kun!”_

Minami looks around the rink in confusion. Yuuri yells _“Good luck!”_ again, to get the point across. 

This seems like the best possible thing to say, because Minami tears up and practically sobs in joy.

On the screen of a phone, and in an ice rink many miles away, Victor smiles.

Yuuri watches Minami dance his hyper little heart out on the ice for a while, then goes to do some stretches away from the crowd. He can hear the applause when it ends, and faintly the score--152.14, making his total score 214.97, not bad for a 17-year-old in regionals--but mostly he thinks about his own upcoming free skate. His first public performance of it. “On Love: Eros” went well, but “Yuri on Ice” is more important, both in terms of points and in personal significance. _You’ll do great,_ he tells himself. _Remember, just because Victor isn’t here doesn’t mean he isn’t watching._

Speaking of Victor, though, he should check in.

“It’s almost time,” he says, once Victor’s back within view.

Victor squints. “Yuuri, your lips are chapped,” he says.

Are they? Yuuri runs a finger across his lower lip while Victor watches intently. They are. “I didn’t bring any lip balm,” he says. “I’ll be fine, they don’t hurt or anything.”

“If you say so,” Victor says, though his eyes remain fixed on Yuuri’s mouth.

When Yuuri walks back into the rink, and notices the way Minami’s attention immediately snaps to him, he claps him on the small of his back and keeps walking. It seems like the thing to do, and besides, Minami’s kind of cute when he turns bright red like that.

Taking off his jacket means disconnecting from Victor completely again. Yuuri’s okay, though. The ice is waiting for him; he can’t disappoint it.

 _“Representing Ice Castle Hasetsu, please welcome Yuuri Katsuki-san,”_ the announcer says.

“For this first public performance of his free program, the music is an original composition expressing Katsuki’s skating career, titled “Yuri on Ice”,” Morooka says into the mike. “He choreographed the program himself, inspired by Victor Nikiforov’s own tendency to do so.”

Yuuri stands in the center of the ice, his eyes closed. The lonely piano notes from the opening of the song begin to play, and he opens his eyes to look up past the ceiling into the beginning of his career.

He lands the first jump in perfect time with the music, but it’s different from the plan--Victor wanted him to only do one quad here, to refine his program components and not distract himself with jumps, but he knows he can do more than that, he knows that just because the stakes are lower here there’s no reason to focus on one side of the performance. It’d be a disservice to the younger skaters if he treated this like an ordinary practice. So a quad-double instead of a quad-triple, to save energy for other jumps.

With the rising of the music and the representation of meeting Victor at Ice Castle that one night months ago, he’s _supposed_ to do a triple Salchow, but he tries a quadruple--and steps out of the landing, damn. But the music is still rising and his body is still moving, and there’s far more of his story to show.

It’s all a bit of a blur after that.

He does register faceplanting into the barrier, a sharp burst of pain and a dim concern for his nose, but he doesn’t truly return to reality until the music slows to an end and he finds himself facing the camera, holding one hand out to it, the other hand resting over his heart.

After that, it’s the roaring of the crowd and the sensation of blood trickling down his nose, and the thought, _I wonder what Victor thought about that._

He scores 259.56. Not the best he’s ever done, but it beats the other skaters by a mile. Minami doesn’t seem to mind, though, when Yuuri steps off the ice and notices him. “Yuuri-kun!” Minami says, his eyes blazing again, but in a much less offended way now. “I totally lost to you. I want to face you in the Grand Prix series someday! Until then, please don’t quit!”

A staff member hands Yuuri some tissues. He takes them automatically, not letting the distraction deter him from witnessing the minor miracle of someone fanboying over him.

“And another thing!” Minami says with a wild grin. “Please give me your autograph!” He produces an autograph board out of nowhere. The other two skaters follow suit. Will wonders never cease. Also the blood flowing out of his nose, that one can cease whenever it wants.

Yuuri _wants_ to talk to Victor, but even though he’s managed to get his jacket back on, his phone has to stay in his pocket for now, because Minako-sensei and Nishigori ambush him next. 

“Yuuri! I was so impressed!” Minako-sensei sobs. No, really, there are actual tears in her eyes. “It was so obvious that you took the younger skaters seriously as rivals.”

Nishigori, on the other hand, isn’t tearful at all. “What if you’d gotten hurt, slamming into the wall like that at the end?” he yells. 

“S-sorry,” Yuuri says, putting his hands up as a shield. He takes the tissues out of his nose; the bleeding’s stopped by now. “At first, I was just desperate because I didn’t want to lose, but somehow, I started having fun in the middle.” At least he’s pretty sure he did; excluding the part where he hit the wall, the blurry feeling was…nice. Almost relaxing. “I don’t remember a lot about it.”

Minako-sensei and Nishigori wear twin looks of confusion. “Huh?” they say in unison.

“Yeah,” Yuuri says, and nods with a smile. “Anyway, that was the most fun I’ve ever had skating in a competition.” Usually he’s all nerves. Here, though, there was that extra bit of confidence, the awareness that this program is about _him_ and what _he_ can do. This competition was an opportunity to show off who he is. And apparently who he is got the highest score.

There’s also the awareness that this was at least a little bit about trying to get a rise out of Victor. But his feelings about Victor are complicated, and he doesn’t really want to untangle them.

Eventually, he manages to extricate himself from Minako-sensei and Nishigori and find a quiet place to pull out his phone. He is a little nervous about what Victor’s expression will be, but it can’t be _that_ bad, can it? He did win, after all.

Fortunately, Victor seems to be in a better mood than he was after Yuuri’s short program. “I was going to chew you out, but I’ve had some time to reflect on it,” he says. “Is your nose feeling better?”

Yuuri touches it; even if the bleeding’s stopped, it’s a little swollen. “I’m pretty sure it’ll be fine by tomorrow,” he says. “I don’t have a headache, either.”

“I’m impressed you scored that high after a jump like that,” Victor says with a little grin. “But your PCS points came through in the end! Next time you’ll do even better, I know it.”

There’s that warm feeling again that comes from Victor’s praise. Yuuri’s nose doesn’t hurt at all now.

\---

Yuuri has a calm clarity while waiting for his turn to announce his new theme. Even in previous years, he’s been by himself at these things, not even Celestino present, but this time he doesn’t feel nearly as abandoned. Everyone’s watching at home, and Yuuko-chan changed the livestream to this one, so Victor’s watching too. Just because he’s by himself doesn’t mean he’s alone.

Finally, Morooka says, “Next we have the skater Yuuri Katsuki, who’s thought to be the next leader of men’s singles in Japan. Please, show us.”

Yuuri has a slight moment of hesitation--he’s still building up the words he wants to say--and Morooka says, “Um…please show your theme for this year. Skater Katsuki?”

The moment ends. Yuuri turns his board around and places it on the front of the podium, eliciting murmurs from the crowd.

There’s just one character on it. As the flashes from the reporters’ cameras start to go off, Yuuri begins, “My theme in this year’s Grand Prix series is “love”.

“I’ve been helped by many people in my competitive skating career thus far, but I’ve never thought about “love” until now. Though I was blessed with support, I couldn’t take full advantage of it.”

Minako-sensei, Yuuko-chan, Nishigori, everyone who worried about him practicing too hard. Phichit, Celestino, and the conservatory student all saying they were looking forward to seeing him in the Grand Prix.

“I always felt like I was fighting alone. But after returning home, I found a new perspective on my life. I have a whole new way of thinking now, about myself and everyone around me. My “love” is not something as clear-cut as romantic love, but the more abstract feeling of my relationships with my family, my friends, and my hometown. I was finally able to realize that something like love exists all around me.

“I studied Victor Nikiforov as a way of finding a connection with history. I felt like I was adrift, and I wanted something to hold on to. His legacy has had a large influence on my life, so getting to know him better let me rethink who I was. I owe him, as well as his family and coach, a great deal.

“I don’t really have a name for that emotion, but I have decided to call it “love”.”

His voice rises with his heart. “Now that I know what love is and am stronger for it, I’ll prove it to myself with a Grand Prix Final gold medal!”

In an ice rink many miles away, with the lights left on instead of the usual darkness, Victor stares and smiles faintly and thinks, _Who owes who?_


	7. Chapter 7

The last time Yuuri was on a plane, he was coming home from Detroit. Now, he’s leaving home for Beijing. He was alone then, and he’s still alone now--even if he could use his phone on the plane, it’s still daytime in Japan, and Ice Castle is open for customers. No laptops left unattended, especially ones with Skype open and only one person talking.

But he feels a lot better now than he did then. Mentally, physically, everything. So he sleeps easily on the plane, dreaming there was someone else with him anyway.

“Skater Yuuri Katsuki, how do you feel about being at a Grand Prix event with no coach?” asks one of the reporters in the main hall, brandishing one of several microphones towards his face. 

“Sorry, I’m meeting someone, I can’t talk right now,” Yuuri says, making his exit as soon as possible. He does _have_ answers he’s already prepared, but he doesn’t want to have to say them over and over. Also, he really is meeting someone.

Once he makes his way through the crowds and the moderately confusing street signs, apologizing in what little Mandarin he knows, he finally ends up at the right restaurant. At least, he thinks it’s the right restaurant. It looks like the one in the picture Phichit sent him.

“Yuuri!”

And there’s Phichit, thankfully. Yuuri turns around, happy to finally see his friend in the flesh after the last six months. “Phichit-kun!” he says. “It’s great to see you again!”

“Yeah, you too!” Phichit says with a grin. “Let’s go inside. I hope Google Translate can tell us what the menus say.”

In Yuuri’s jacket pocket, somewhat muffled, Victor says, “In my day, we just pointed at random lines and hoped for the best.”

Fortunately, the hostess speaks a little English, and they get to their booth without trouble. The menus are still in Mandarin, though.

Phichit looks at his menu, then his phone, then his menu again. “That section is fish,” he says. “And the next line’s…crab?”

They settle on hot pot. The list of ingredients sounds good.

“Are you sure you don’t want to invite Ciao Ciao?” Phichit says, after swallowing a bite of mushroom. “He’d love to see you.”

“He’d just ask questions,” Yuuri says with a weak smile. “I’ll get plenty of those tomorrow, so I just want to have a normal evening out before then.”

Phichit nods. “Mhm, I get it,” he says. “So I guess that means I shouldn’t ask questions either?”

“Um…maybe a couple,” Yuuri says. He really missed Phichit. 

“Okay, let’s see,” Phichit says, and stares up at the ceiling like he’s pondering. He looks back down at Yuuri. “I know! How hard is it to keep up a diet with no one to glare at you for it? Ciao Ciao’s still really stern about it. I miss gluay kaeg.”

Yuuri remembers Celestino’s diet plans. They weren’t fun. “I’m getting better at self-control,” he says. “…not _perfect,_ though.” Victor doesn’t need to know about the occasional katsudon. Except Victor can hear him right now. Oops.

“Oh?” Victor says, sounding somewhat amused. “Do we need to have a talk when we get back, Yuuri?”

“Really just a couple times in the past six months,” Yuuri says brightly. “Mari-neechan’s birthday was last month, and birthdays are fine, right?” Mari’s birthday was in February.

“That’s probably better than I could do,” Phichit says with a sigh. “You’re lucky, Yuuri.”

Yuuri chooses to take another bite of hot pot instead of responding.

\---

Yuuri’s met Leo de la Iglesia a few times, once at last year’s Skate Canada and twice at the Four Continents, but he’s never met Guang-Hong Ji before. Seems like a nice kid, though, and Yuuri’s pretty sure Leo’s a good judge of character. When they’re all meeting backstage before the competition starts, Yuuri feels okay around them and Phichit. They’re not scary people. They seem kind of jealous when Phichit shows them the Instagram photos of yesterday’s dinner, actually.

Yuuri’s met Christophe Giacometti exactly once. Last year’s Final. Christophe seems to put more significance to this than Yuuri does.

“Yuuri, you should have invited me last night,” he purrs into Yuuri’s ear, skimming his hand across Yuuri’s ass and getting way too close. Yuuri yelps. “I’ve been to Beijing several times. I could’ve shown you around.”

“Hi Chris,” Yuuri manages. “We did okay, thanks.”

Chris withdraws a little. A little. “Looks like you got into shape,” he says. “I guess being your own master is good for your training.”

“Y-yeah,” Yuuri says, trying to smile. That is 100% what has been happening, yes. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a familiar phone case being raised. He immediately jumps to the side and hurriedly says, _“Phichit please don’t upload that.”_

Phichit pouts. “But people want to see you, and they want to see Chris, so showing pictures of you _and_ Chris is good for my follower count,” he says.

Chris laughs. “Whatever you think is best, Phichit,” he says, clapping Yuuri on the shoulder.

“I’ve gotta go call someone, I’ll see you guys later,” Yuuri says, and makes his exit.

When he gets to an uninhabited hallway, he leans against the wall and pulls out his phone. As he plugs in his earbuds and puts them on, he can already see Victor’s eyebrows raised.

“I’ve heard people mention a Christophe Giacometti,” Victor says. “Are you two on good terms?”

Yuuri shakes his head. “I only met him once, I don’t know why he’s being so friendly,” he says. 

“I guess it doesn’t matter,” Victor says. But he still looks a little bit bothered. Yuuri chooses to not think about that.

Yuuri’s mood as he watches Phichit’s performance is equally glad and pensive. Phichit’s doing much better than the skaters at regionals were, and will almost certainly get a higher score than Yuuri did there. There’s real competition here. But he can be happy for his friend, at least. Yuuri would be completely fine with Phichit getting silver.

As Guang-Hong starts, Yuuri jogs up and down the hallway, thinking.

 _Everyone wants to know my secret. I’m mysterious, enigmatic--and people crave what they don’t know. So I’ll make them crave_ me. _An all-consuming desire for knowledge only I possess._

Before it’s his turn, he checks in with Victor one last time.

“Another round of seduction,” Victor says. “How will you charm them tonight, Yuuri?”

Yuuri only smiles. “Oh, you’ll know,” he says. “No one will be able to take their eyes off me. Including you.”

There’s something deep in Victor’s eyes. “I’m sure of it,” he breathes.

_“The next skater, representing Japan, Yuuri Katsuki.”_

Yuuri runs his tongue across his lips as the performance starts.

_You all ask me how I’m doing this, what it’s like, why I’m here. Over and over, you ask. How badly do you want to know? How badly do you want me to tell you?_

“Y-Yuuri Katsuki is skating his first program of the Grand Prix series,” Morooka says into the mike. “The music is “On Love: Eros”. He’s declared this year’s theme to be “love”.”

Another newscaster chimes in. “Well, he’s certainly changed drastically from previous seasons. Maybe training on his own has changed things for him mentally.”

_You’re so curious about me. Seeing how I’ve changed makes you want to know how I did it. What are my secrets? Don’t you want to know?_

“What an amazing step sequence! That was wonderful!”

He nails the triple axel. The quadruple Salchow-- _yes!_

_I’m such a mystery to you. Who I really am, what I make you feel._

“Quadruple toe loop, triple toe loop. He did it! So far, all the jumps have been flawless!”

_Don’t you want to know what I’m hiding?_

“He’s about to complete a program with the highest technical difficulty in history!”

_Don’t you want to know what I don’t think about, Victor?_

The music ends, the crowd roars, and Morooka shouts, “You’re witnessing the birth of a new Yuuri Katsuki! Love wins!”

Yuuri accepts the audience’s adoration. The bouquets thrown onto the ice are like offerings.

It’s his first kiss and cry by himself. Not quite by himself--with his jacket back on, the weight of his phone in his pocket is a familiar comfort. But anyone watching only sees him.

“And we have his short program score: 106.84! A new personal best! He’s currently in first place!”

_I said you wouldn’t be able to take your eyes off me._

He manages to escape to another hallway, though it’s not an abandoned one; the occasional person passes through. Still, none of the other skaters are there. 

“That was _perfect,_ Yuuri,” Victor breathes. “No one could take their eyes off you, least of all me. How great did it feel?”

“Well, I was hoping everyone else felt great watching me,” Yuuri replies. _Desperation has a charm of its own._

“Of course they’d feel great watching a program like that,” Victor says with a wide smile. “You’re the best student.”

 _I’m your_ only _student,_ Yuuri doesn’t say, and also, _So you felt that too, right? Since you were watching me too?_

The other skaters perform, the other scores are announced--

\--and Yuuri is in first.

Yuuri doesn’t think he’s _ever_ been in first.

This is, um, well. It’s. Good. Everyone can see that it’s good. The other skaters can see that it’s good. If he does well once, he can keep doing well, right? Everyone is expecting that, right?

…sleeping tonight will be easy, right?

\---

It was more along the lines of “impossible”.

Yuuri’s brain feels heavy. He’s exhausted, but he’s also very, very aware that he _shouldn’t_ be, and if he stays this tired it’s probably going to be bad for his skating.

Victor tuts at him from his phone. “Yuuri, you haven’t slept, have you?” he asks.

“I-I did! A little bit, anyway…” A very little bit. It might have been his imagination.

“Go back to your room and nap until this evening’s event starts,” Victor says, a stern look in his eyes. 

Yuuri’s tempted to say _You can’t make me,_ but honestly he’s too tired to rebel. He goes back to the hotel room and falls into the bed.

No more success than last time.

He barely hears the announcer saying the title of the event, and his hands shake while he’s trying to open his water bottle. Why isn’t it opening? Does it want him to try harder? Is it expecting him to? 

The downside of wearing earbuds instead of his usual earplugs is that the low chatter of the audience is still somewhat audible. The upside is that he can hear Victor. The other downside is that Victor isn’t being helpful.

“I forbid you from doing jumps in the warmup,” Victor says, his smile not really showing much happiness.

“Eh?” Yuuri stares. He _has_ to practice jumps, otherwise he’ll definitely mess them up in his performance. The jumps are important. The jumps are really important. He has to get those right. He has to.

“That’s an order from your coach, Yuuri.”

He _has_ to.

He tries them anyway, and flubs every single one.

“Well, it’s common for skaters to nail something they flubbed in practice!” Victor says, while Yuuri’s walking down a hallway with the other skaters to the back room. It’s entirely possible that someone behind him could see the screen of his phone. He doesn’t really care.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri mumbles.

“Well, just keep warming up, nice and easy.”

That’s very easy for Victor to say. Victor probably never had to worry about anything like this in his life. Yuuri’s brain is sludge, dragging him down no matter how steps forward he takes. It doesn’t feel like his body is even there. Not that his body is being all that useful right now anyway.

Watching Guang-Hong get a quadruple toe loop just makes the sludge drag more. He huddles in a chair, trying not to shake and not being all that successful. Why won’t his body _listen?_ This is the most important competition he’s been in since Nationals, and he’s so much better than he was then. But it doesn’t feel like he is. It feels like his short program yesterday was a mistake that won’t happen again. He’ll mess up like he always does, and he’ll go home in disgrace like he did last time, and Victor--

Eventually, while he’s trying to warm up in another room, he hears Victor say from his pocket, “I can hear the reporters murmuring from here. Let’s go someplace quieter to warm up.”

The reporters _are_ murmuring. Everyone can see how awful he looks right now. Somewhere quieter sounds nice. Then he can focus on the noise in his head.

The parking garage is quieter, kind of. He can still hear the audience and the music. What are the standings right now? Chris probably just finished, right? Chris got silver at the Final last year. He’s practically a shoe-in. He has more quads than Yuuri does, and more experience, and--

“Okay, Yuuri,” Victor says, in what is probably supposed to be a soothing tone, but sounds kind of worried anyway. “First, let’s take deep breaths.”

Breathe in. Breathe out. Keep stretching. Try not to think.

The crowd’s going wild over something. Phichit? Maybe Phichit did really well. Phichit didn’t do that well in the short program, but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t do better today. Phichit probably did really well. 

If Yuuri was looking at his phone right now, he’d see Victor pacing.

“Don’t listen!” Victor snaps. His voice is loud, but it doesn’t really do anything. The crowd is still roaring. Yuuri’s mind is still drowning.

He should go back soon. His turn is coming up.

“V-Victor?” Yuuri mumbles. “It’s almost time. I need to get back.”

Back to the crowd roaring for someone else. Back to scores much higher than his could be. Back to expectations he can’t possibly fill, and disappointing everybody, disappointing--

“Yuuri,” Victor says. His voice is solid ice. “If you mess up this free skate and miss the podium, don’t bother coming to Ice Castle again. I won’t speak to you.”

Yuuri can’t move. He can’t breathe. There’s no more noise in his head, but the deafening silence is worse. 

He can feel the tears slide down his face as his own voice cracks the silence.

“Why would you say something like that, like you’re trying to test me?” he says, his voice wobbling.

On the screen, Victor looks like the weight of his mistake has hit him. “Uh, sorry, Yuuri,” he says, making an attempt at being placating. “I wasn’t being serious--”

For once, Yuuri’s words won’t stop. “I’m used to letting everyone down!” he cries. “But this time, I’m anxious because I’d be disappointing you, too! I’ve been wondering if you wish you were stuck with someone else!”

“Of course I don’t,” Victor says, trying a comforting smile.

 _“I know!”_ Yuuri yells.

Victor looks away and runs a hand through his hair. “I’m not good with people crying in front of me,” he says. “I don’t know what I should do. Should I just tell you I love you or something?”

“No!” Yuuri cries, the tears still flowing down his face. “Just have more faith than I do that I’ll win! You don’t have to say anything. Just stay close to me!”

Per request, Victor stays silent, just watching with a profoundly vulnerable look on his face. Yuuri lets the tears run out, his shoulders shaking less and his head slowly clearing.

But it really is time to go. With one last shuddering breath, Yuuri raises his head, wipes his face, and heads back to the stairs up to the rink.

There are already scattered cheers before the announcer even says his name. A calm descends over Yuuri, silencing the last traces of noise in his head. He takes off his jacket and looks at his phone, one last time.

He nods, just a little.

Then he puts it back in his pocket and folds the jacket, leaving it behind the barrier.

_“On the ice representing Japan, Yuuri Katsuki!”_

The strains of piano fill the air.

 _I feel a lot better after crying,_ Yuuri thinks. All the sludge is gone, too, leaving a clear space in his mind, open and peaceful. _Victor’s expression when I started to cry was priceless._ He smiles as he raises his hands to the sky and slides them back down, turning and spreading them and raising them again while he moves.

 _I’ve cried after a match before, but that’s the first time before a match. Um, so the first jump…a quadruple toe loop, double toe loop combination._

He nails it, more or less. _Better than I expected._

“His first quad was a success. In this free skate, Yuuri Katsuki plans to do three quads of two different types.”

 _Victor’s too inexperienced as a coach. It’s not like my mental weakness started just now._ He slides across the ice, focused but not so tightly he can’t think. _He should be prepared for this much. Stupid Victor!_

It’s a childish thing to think, but it doesn’t hurt his quadruple Salchow anyway.

_Oh. I made it._

“His theme for this season is “love”,” Morooka says. “Yuuri Katsuki made an emphatic declaration at the press conference.”

With a triple loop, Yuuri glides down the rink in a straight line for a few moments, his arms spread wide and his face turning up. With no announcements and no cheers, all there is is the music, gentle and strong all at once.

“Next up is one of his favorites, the triple axel. Oops, he touched down!”

His fingers slam against the ice, but only for a moment, and he doesn’t let it slow him. _I might have messed up on controlling the jump’s speed. It went pretty well, despite not doing it during warmup. Next up is a triple flip._

He nails it, and as he does, he thinks, _Oh, I wonder how Victor would react if I made the last quad a flip instead of a toe loop._

“Coming up next is a triple axel, single loop, triple Salchow combination.”

The first two parts go well, the third--well, he’ll keep going.

 _I over-rotated, but I’m not as tired as I should be, given I haven’t slept._ The next combination, he does perfectly.

“Even in the second half, he’s not showing any signs of fatigue. Moving on to the step sequence.”

He doesn’t feel tired at all. Energized, in fact. More driven than ever. _I want to become stronger…I can become stronger! I can surpass Victor’s wildest imagination!_

The spins go by in a blur, but not an uncontrolled one. Even through the sweat and the beginnings of muscle ache, his mind is clear, honing in on a single point.

“He’s planned a quadruple toe loop for his final jump.”

_Plans change, and so do I._

“I-it’s a quadruple flip!” Morooka proclaims in an astonished tone. “He fell, but there appeared to be enough rotations!"

Not perfect. Well, he got the point across.

“The quadruple flip was a signature move of Victor Nikiforov, Katsuki’s inspiration for his comeback. Not even Nikiforov ever did a jump this difficult at the end of a program, when fatigue would be at its peak!”

With one last, long spin, he closes the program with the final pose.

“Here’s a man who’ll go above and beyond our expectations, Yuuri Katsuki!”

The crowd goes wild. Yuuri can barely hear them. All that matters is one hand on his heart and the other hand outstretched towards the camera.

When he finally gets to his phone, he hurriedly plugs in his earbuds and says, “What do you think? I did great, right?”

He’s never seen Victor look so breathless. “Yes,” he manages. “That was--yes.”

Yuuri feels a surge of pride, undiminished by getting silver to Phichit’s gold. Silver is good enough, it’s more than good enough. But the medal is almost less important than the expression on Victor’s face. The quadruple flip wasn’t about getting more points.

The remaining time in Beijing can’t pass quickly enough. Yuuri’s antsy the whole plane ride, unable to sleep thinking of returning home. And even when he does get back, it’s too late to go to Ice Castle--tomorrow, he’ll have to wait until tomorrow evening, that’s so _far._

As soon as it’s almost time for Ice Castle to close, Yuuri runs out of his house, down the freeway, right up to the front doors. He’s out of breath, but nothing he can’t handle, he needs to see Victor _now._

Yuuko-chan tosses him the keys the moment she sees him at the front desk. “Have a good night, Yuuri-kun,” she says with a smile.

He doesn’t even bother putting on his skates before he dashes into the rink. “Victor!” he cries. 

Victor is leaning his back against the wall, arms crossed, a sad smile on his face.

“I wish I could touch you,” he says.

Yuuri’s world shudders to a halt.

“I think about it sometimes. Frequently, in fact. I have a lot of time to think. I think about what it would be like to be alive, to have hands that wouldn’t phase through yours if I tried to hold them.”

Victor’s voice is soft, and his eyes are softer.

“I wish I could touch your hands, your face, your hair--find out if your hair is as soft as it looks. I wish I knew what your skin feels like. I wish I could feel how warm you are, even in this cold.

“More than anything, I wish I could kiss you.”

Victor still hasn’t moved. Not doing the no-personal-space thing. That doesn’t feel right. Yuuri wishes he was closer.

“When I saw you try the quadruple flip, I thought--I don’t know if I can convey what I thought. It hurt like a physical wound that I wasn’t there. Before I died, I was more bored than I can express. I thought the world had no more surprises for me. But you’re one wonderful surprise after another, and then--then you were even more.

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything as much as I wanted to kiss you then.

“But I couldn’t, and I can’t. All I can do is wish.”

If Victor isn’t going to move any closer, then Yuuri will. Slowly, he closes the gap between them, until he’s only a couple feet away.

Victor doesn’t blink, doesn’t shift position at all. But there’s a tightness in his posture like a coiled spring. One trapped beneath something that makes it unable to move.

“I think I’ve been in love with you for some time now,” Victor says quietly. “I don’t have the words to describe how much you mean to me. If you’d been an adult when I was alive, and we’d known each other, I know that I would still be alive today. You’re amazing, you’re beautiful, and I wish so much that I could touch you.”

Yuuri’s chest is squeezed so tight he can barely breathe, but. Maybe…

“Hold out your hand, like this,” Yuuri says, palm parallel to his torso, fingers curled down about halfway, spread a little apart and a couple inches away from his palm. Victor blinks, but follows suit.

Yuuri reaches out and threads his fingers into the empty space between Victor’s. With a little adjustment, he rests them just on the edge of Victor’s insubstantial skin.

It’s almost like they’re holding hands.

Victor shudders. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispers.

A laugh almost bubbles up from Yuuri’s throat, but he swallows it. “Whatever this is, I’m here, and so are you,” he says. “That’s the only thing that matters.”

Victor reaches out his other hand and caresses the air just above Yuuri’s cheek. “I guess so,” he says softly.

In the cold air of the rink, warmth unfurls.


	8. Chapter 8

So now Yuuri’s dating a ghost.

Kind of?

He doesn’t know how to put it. Nothing’s really _changed,_ but--he feels a little wriggly inside whenever he looks at Victor now. Which is often. Fortunately it’s not as strong during practice; he’s too busy concentrating on his programs to think about how he sort of has a boyfriend now. A boyfriend he can’t even hug, much less anything else, and he can’t introduce to his family, and can’t technically go out with. Yeah, it’s good he’s too busy concentrating on his programs to think about that.

Another good way to not think about it is to be in the hotel hosting all the skaters in the Rostelecom Cup.

Amidst the minor recurring drama between the Crispino siblings and Emil Nekola, Yuuri escapes to an elevator that _isn’t_ full of emotional Europeans. Except Yuri Plisetsky shows up instead, so never mind.

After a certain amount of awkward silence, Yuuri says, “Um, good luck to both of us in the Rostelecom Cup.”

Yuri glowers at the elevator doors and says, “Huh? You’ll suffer a miserable defeat here in Moscow.”

Yuuri _could_ let the awkward silence continue, or he could go for his other conversational option. “Tell Yakov Feltsman thanks again for all the help,” he says.

“I’m not going to thank him for enabling your creepy obsession,” Yuri spits. “Victor Nikiforov is a legend at our rink. If anyone is going to be inspired by his legacy, it should be one of us, not some random Japanese failure.”

In Yuuri’s pocket, Victor says, “Aww, I’ve got a fan.”

In the backstage room, while Emil finishes up, the inimitable force of JJ Leroy glances at Yuuri and says, “Did you all hear that? Emil landed a quadruple loop, too. Applause!”

At least, Yuuri thinks he says that. He wasn’t really paying attention. He pulls out one of the earbuds and says, “Oh, sorry. I didn’t catch that.”

“Your Victor Nikiforov did that jump in his final exhibition,” JJ declares. “I wish I could have seen it!”

Yuuri’s torn between thinking _He’s not_ my _Victor Nikiforov_ and _Actually maybe he is now? Does it work like that?_

Finally, it’s Yuuri’s turn on the ice. While the crowd chants his name, he checks in with Victor one last time.

Over the mike, Morooka says, “Yuuri Katsuki won second place in the Cup of China with the power of love. What kind of performance will he give us here?”

Yuuri brings the phone close to his face and murmurs, “The performance has already begun.”

“You’re right,” Victor replies with a soft smile.

“Don’t worry. I’ll show my love to the whole of Russia.”

What Russia will think of it, who knows. Plenty of people love the memory of Victor Nikiforov. In their eyes, Yuuri is a fan made good. Yuuri can’t exactly show that there’s a little more to it than that. Still, he’ll skate his love anyway.

 _“The next skater, representing Japan. Yuuri Katsuki!”_ the announcer declares.

Yuuri hopes no one caught that on camera. It’s hard to avoid saying Victor’s name where other people can hear him.

_Before the crowd can intimidate me in enemy territory, I have to intimidate them!_

When he glances at the camera, he blows a kiss.

“Japan’s Yuuri Katsuki, age 23. He’s skating to “On Love: Eros”. He’s been beating his short program personal bests since the first event in the series. He’ll need to finish fourth or higher to advance to the Grand Prix Final.”

_If I lose at the Rostelecom Cup, this may become the last time I can skate this program in competition. What good is inspiration if you fail in the end? That’s what people will think. That studying Victor Nikiforov meant nothing, that it couldn’t turn me around._

_Thinking that runs chills up my spine. I’m the only one who can prove that I’ve changed!_

“His first planned jump is a triple axel from a spread eagle. A triple axel. Very clean!”

_More, more. Keep moving._

“A quadruple Salchow!”

He glides, he turns, he moves and moves.

“A quadruple toe loop, triple toe loop. He nailed the last combination, too!”

Spin, spin, he dances across the ice, and it’s done.

“Another flawless performance, following his last short program in the Cup of China! The crowd’s giving him a standing ovation!”

Bouquets and stuffed sushi litter the ice. Yuuri waves at the audience, breathless. _My skating must have gotten my message across._

The kiss and cry shows that it did--“109.97! He’s surpassed his personal best once again! He’s now in first place!”

_Of course I am._

His phone sits heavy in his jacket pocket. He hasn’t had time to check it yet. Soon, though, as soon as he gets a moment by himself. Several moments, preferably.

“I wish I could’ve been there,” Victor says, beaming, once Yuuri’s free. “You keep outdoing yourself, over and over! I’m so proud of you.” He blows a kiss at the screen.

Yuuri taps his lips as if catching it. He still feels a little wriggly inside, but that’s okay. “I wish you could’ve been here too,” he says. “I’ll be back in a few days. We’ll just have to struggle through until then.”

Victor laughs. “However will we manage!” he says.

In a way, Yuuri sees Victor more now that he’s away from home. They’re not restricted to evening practice, though they still have to avoid Ice Castle Hasetsu’s open hours. But he still wishes he could see Victor face-to-face again, not through a small screen with imperfect reception.

If Victor could be here--

\--well, Victor can’t be here, and thinking about it doesn’t help any.

A small screen with imperfect reception is enough.

The next evening, after the public practice ends and Group Two starts, Yuuri doesn’t find himself pacing or worrying. It’s such a marked change from the last time he was waiting for his free skate. He smiles at the thought of it--so much has changed since then. Him, his skating, his relationship with Victor; the whole world feels different now.

It’s almost time for Yuri Plisetsky’s turn. Yuuri kind of wants to see that one, so he starts to leave the hallway and stow his phone in his pocket.

From behind him, three unexpected sets of footsteps; Yuuri briefly glances to see JJ and his two coaches. JJ's saying something to them, but Yuuri only catches the first few words, because JJ is looking at his coaches, not where he’s walking, and bumps into Yuuri.

Hard enough to knock Yuuri’s phone out of his hand.

JJ turns back around, startled, steps forward presumably to apologize--

\--and steps on the phone.

With a _crunch,_ the screen cracks open, going dark on an image of Victor looking puzzled. Yuuri hears a faint “Yuu--” before the sound cuts out too.

JJ’s eyes widen, and he looks genuinely contrite. “Oh shit, I’m sorry,” he says. “I’ll buy you a new one. I’m so sorry.”

Yuuri’s too busy staring at the broken phone to process it for a few seconds, then he weakly says, “Yeah, okay.”

He picks it up and looks at it more closely. He doesn’t know much about phones, but pressing the buttons doesn’t do anything and the screen is mildly shattered, so it looks pretty dead to him.

It’s his turn next.

Okay, this is a fixable problem, he can ask someone if he can borrow--no, logging into Skype won’t do any good if Victor can’t accept the call. Okay, he can ask Yuuko-chan--but it’s late at night in Japan, he shouldn’t wake her up.

It’s his turn next, and Victor’s gone.

Okay. It’s not like it’s _that_ different. He won’t get any final advice, and he won’t get to talk after the scores, but it’s fine, he’s fine. Not that Victor _knows_ it’s fine right now; backstage isn’t on the livestream, so he doesn’t know what’s happening to Yuuri. He will once the performance starts, though. Victor’s still watching. It’s fine.

Yuuri’s never been alone at a competition before. Before he became competitive, there was always his mom or Minako-sensei or Yuuko-chan and Nishigori. Then there was always Celestino. That doesn’t mean anything, though, he’ll be fine. 

Breathe in, breathe out. Every completely logical reason for everything to be fine is there in his head. 

It’s just kind of hard to pay attention to them, that’s all, when the illogical reasons for everything to not be fine have sunk their teeth into his nerves.

_No one’s there, no one’s waiting for him, he’s far from home and he barely knows the other skaters, most of the audience is probably there for them, he’s only in second place anyway, no one’s here to say none of that matters--_

If this hadn’t happened at almost the literal last minute--

It’s his turn now.

On the cold ice, with a waiting crowd, and a personal best to beat, and Jean-Jacques Leroy waiting in the wings, Yuuri starts.

“Yuuri Katsuki from Japan is in second place after the short program. He is skating to “Yuri on Ice”.”

_Nothing Victor taught me has gone to waste. I have to prove that by winning. If I fail here, everything is over._

“A quadruple toe loop.”

Damn, he popped it and made the second jump a single. Okay. That’s okay. Well, not really.

_Crap, crap. Calm down, calm down!_

_How do I recover from this?_

An image comes into his head. The moment Victor said he was Yuuri’s coach, all those months ago, in Ice Castle Hasetsu. Victor had seemed so flippant about it at the time, but even then, Yuuri could see the hint of desperation underneath.

_We feel the same. We both need this victory. Until Victor came into my life, I could never openly say that I’d win gold, but I never skated with the thought in my mind that I’d lose anyway._

“That jump had enough rotations.” _Barely._

_Truthfully, I wanted to win gold at last year’s Grand Prix Final, too. I was able to come this far because Victor believed in me._

“A triple loop.” _Not a good one._

_If I end here without making the Grand Prix Final…_

“He two-footed that landing.”

_No. Don’t think right now._

The program drags on. But he has the stamina, he can do it, he can.

_Whether Victor were with me or not, it would still feel just as tough._

He nails a triple flip.

_Keep it simple. I’m the only one who can skate this program with this much appeal._

“A triple axel, single loop, and triple Salchow.”

_See? Stamina._

“Triple Lutz, triple toe loop.”

_I’m the one who loves this program Victor and I made the most in the whole world!_

_This won’t end here. We’ll go together, as far as we can!_

“You can feel Yuuri Katsuki’s love, a love he can only express on the ice, in this step sequence.”

_…only on the ice of Ice Castle Hasetsu, you mean._

The last moves, the last spin--the hand on his heart and the hand pointing at the camera.

The kiss and cry, more alone than before.

“We have Yuuri Katsuki’s scores. His free skate score is 172.87. His total score is 282.84. He’s currently in third place. He may yet advance to the Grand Prix Final, but we won’t know until the end.”

Third place, with Jean-Jacques Leroy waiting. 

Normally he’d find someplace alone to talk to Victor, but there’s no point to that now. He sits in silence for a few moments before getting up and heading backstage.

The scores go as he expected--JJ in first, Yuri Plisetsky in second, Michele Crispino in third, and him in fourth. Just barely qualifying for the Final. If he’d been just a few points lower in the Cup of China, he wouldn’t have made it in.

As he heads towards the backstage exit, he gets ambushed by Sara Crispino.

“Yuuri, congrats on qualifying the Grand Prix Final! I knew you’d make it,” she says, like his victory didn’t disqualify her brother. She holds out her arms for a hug, which instantly distresses Michele behind her.

Yuuri’s just tired, though. “Thanks,” he says, a weary smile on his face. “Good luck on your free skate.” And he walks past her without accepting. Michele seems happy with that, though.

Outside, he stares up at the night sky. The stars are dotted with lightly falling snow that is probably going to get less light soon enough. He should go back inside at some point.

 _I’m this close to the peak of my competitive skating career,_ he thinks. _I really want the gold now. The Grand Prix Final will be my last chance._

_Victor’s helped me so much. If I don’t win, I…_

Well. He should get back inside.

It’s a long flight back to Japan. He does a lot of thinking while he’s on it.

At Fukuoka Airport, he trudges through the gate, barely paying attention to where he’s going. _I have a lot I want to tell you, Victor. What do I say first?_

Then, through the glass wall between the gate and the rest of the airport, he hears, “Yuuri-kun!”

He looks up to see Yuuko-chan, smiling, one hand waving and the other holding up a cell phone.

He can’t help it; he runs down the path and through the security door, tugging down his facemask. It’s like when he returned to the rink after China, but there’s a more desperate tinge to it now. 

Yuuko-chan is a godsend. She doesn’t even have to say that she got his call; she just hands him the phone, complete with a set of earbuds, and says, “I’ll get your luggage and take it to the car.” And she leaves.

He puts on the earbuds as quickly as he can and presses the home button. Skype’s already open, and there Victor is--looking as tired as Yuuri feels, but smiling anyway.

“Yuuri,” he says. “Yuuko said you wanted to tell me something important?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri whispers. If Victor was here right now--but he isn’t. Yuuri swallows.

“I want to keep skating after the Final,” Yuuri says. “I want to go to Nationals, and Worlds, and as much as I can get, with you at my side for as long as I can.” _I don’t want to be apart from you ever again._

Victor looks very briefly surprised before he smiles again. “It’s almost like a marriage proposal,” he says.

Yuuri tries to keep his face from cracking. He wishes Victor was here, he wishes it _so much._

“…I wish I could stay with you forever,” Victor says softly.

Yuuri knows that forever is a very long word, for Victor. But he wishes it too. So much of their relationship is built on wishes.

“Let’s win gold together at the Grand Prix Final,” Yuuri whispers.

And everything after that, for as long as they can.


	9. Chapter 9

Yuuri wakes up in Barcelona in a mild daze, still sleepy from the jetlag. He doesn’t really feel like doing anything yet. Out of habit, he glances at his phone, which is sitting on the nightstand, quietly charging.

Man, his phone’s battery is getting a workout these days.

Time zone differences mean that Ice Castle won’t close until later in the afternoon. Until then, no Victor. Just a phone and a cold morning in Barcelona. 

…nobody’s really gonna care if he just stays in bed for a while longer.

He slumps his face back into the pillow. The Final’s tomorrow. His chance to really show how much he’s improved; his chance to show the world that Victor Nikiforov’s memory isn’t an idle symbol. His chance to face off against skaters who did much better than a silver and a fourth place.

…bed’s looking pretty good.

He does have to go to practice eventually, though, so he ends up at the rink with everyone else, trying not to pay too much attention to them. What he needs to pay attention to is his quad flip. He still only lands it about half the time, and that’s in practice, not competition. Without it, he can’t beat JJ in the short program, and he’ll need it in the free skate, too. 

He never even _tried_ a quadruple flip before the Cup of China. He’s pretty sure he only managed it out of luck. Luck and wanting to see how Victor would react. Well, now he knows how Victor would react, so there’s no element of curiosity anymore.

But the point of practice is to learn these things. So Yuuri tries to do one, and doesn’t succeed, and tries to do one, and doesn’t succeed, and tries to do one, and doesn’t succeed, and he’s _pretty_ sure the other skaters aren’t watching him, but he wouldn’t put it past JJ.

Why yes, Yuuri’s completely over the phone incident, definitely, 100%.

Eventually, he finishes practice, trying not to focus too much on the quad flip. He’ll get it when he needs to. He _will._ Right now, Ice Castle Hasetsu has reached closing hours, and he can _finally_ start draining his phone’s battery again.

“Good afternoon!” Victor says with a cheery wave. “It’s afternoon for you, right?”

Yuuri nods. “Afternoon and cold,” he says. Even standing outside the rink, it’s brisk. “Was it like that when you came here?” He doesn’t need to ask if Victor’s been to Barcelona. He has tapes of every single performance in it.

“Winter in Barcelona isn’t T-shirt weather, no,” Victor says wryly. “I wonder if anything’s changed since the last time I was there.”

“Probably,” Yuuri says. “I’d ask you to show me around, but, you know.” He shrugs.

“I do indeed,” Victor says with a dry smile. “Do you want to see the city anyway? You could find someone else who’s been here. I’m sure that Christophe would be delighted.”

Yuuri pinches the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t tell me you’re jealous of Christophe Giacometti,” he says wearily.

Victor puts on a mock-offended expression. “I would never!” he says. “I’m just saying, he seemed fond of you in China and he’s here too--”

“I don’t know _why_ he was ‘fond of me’ in China,” Yuuri says. “Or why he kept winking at me in the banquet afterwards. I don’t think anyone knows why Christophe does half the things he does.” He’s tempted to ask, but honestly, he doesn’t want to go down that road.

“Well, if you’re sure,” Victor says. There’s a hint of a smile underneath his pout.

“I’d rather wander around the city pretending to take a very long phone call,” Yuuri says. “I probably shouldn’t be looking at a screen all the time if I’m walking, so audio-only, sorry. I’ll mention anything that looks interesting.”

“All right,” Victor says with a nod. “Shall we get going?”

The Sagrada Familia is an imposing sight, the arches on its lower half looking like maws of melting stone while the towers rise up into the sky. Yuuri was never one for churches--there aren’t exactly a lot of them in Hasetsu, and he didn’t get out much in Detroit--but he can still appreciate the work that must have gone into these massive cathedrals. Is still going into, for this one.

“I’ve been there, though I didn’t go inside,” Victor says over the phone. “Russian cathedrals, now, I’ve…not been to many of those either.”

It’d be weird going to a restaurant by himself, so Yuuri regretfully goes without trying any paella. The dishes are too big for one person anyway. “Yakov didn’t care for it,” Victor says. “I would’ve ended up eating his portion if I didn’t want to avoid overeating the night before a competition.”

Yuuri very carefully does not respond to that.

They don’t end up going inside the Palau Nacional--art museums and tour groups don’t like it if you’re on your phone all the time--but Yuuri still gets someone to take his picture on a balcony with a view of it. Something he can show Victor, at any rate.

By the time they get to the shopping district, it’s evening, and Yuuri’s tired from walking around all day. He sits down on a bench with a _whoof._

“Not going to do any shopping?” Victor asks.

Yuuri rests his elbow against the top of the bench. His right arm is _really_ tired. Holding a phone to your ear for hours on end takes stamina. “I don’t really need anything,” he says. “Plus I send most of the prize money home anyway.” He didn’t get as much this year as last year. A silver and a fourth place aren’t as much as a silver and a bronze.

“I tended towards the excessive with my spending habits,” Victor admits. “Towards the end of my life, I started to realize I didn’t really care about any of it. It was part of the character I played. I would’ve been happy with a normal apartment so long as Makkachin was there, and clothes don’t have to be designer to look good. But world-class athlete Victor Nikiforov wants only the best.”

“World-class athlete Yuuri Katsuki lives with his parents and would eat his mom’s cooking every day if his coach didn’t force him on a diet,” Yuuri says wryly. 

Victor laughs. “And you’re much happier for it than I was, I’m sure,” he says. 

Yuuri sits on the bench for a while, watching the crowd. He doesn’t understand a single word they’re saying, except maybe ‘si’ and ‘donde esta la bibliotheca’. It’s all just background noise, a relaxing babble while he rests in the evening cold.

Eventually, looking around at the people makes him notice a storefront he hadn’t paid attention to before. He doesn’t need anything from it--well. Well, probably. Maybe. Not _need,_ maybe. But.

“Hold on a second, I’m going to buy something,” Yuuri says, and puts the phone in his pocket. He walks into the store and surveys the merchandise. Not that, not that, not--oh. That.

He leaves the store with an elegant paper bag and looks around again. Where’s somewhere with fewer people?

Ultimately, he ends up in a church. There are still people practicing carols in the background, but he doesn’t speak that language either, so it’s still background noise. Besides, it’s atmospheric.

He finds a corner where he can prop up the phone while blocking the view of the screen with his body, and plugs in the earbuds. 

“This would be a lot easier if you were here,” Yuuri says. “And if you were corporeal.” He takes one of the little cardboard boxes out of the bag and opens it, removing the gold ring from inside, and holds it so Victor can see. “Thank you for everything up to now,” he says. He tries not to let his words stumble. “I…I couldn’t think of something better. But, um…I’ll try my best from tomorrow on, so…tell me something for good luck.”

Victor’s smile is small, but there. “Sure,” he says. “I’ll say something you won’t even have to think about. Tomorrow, show me the skating that you can honestly say you liked best.”

Yuuri hopes his sigh of relief isn’t too noticeable, and grins. “Okay!” he says. “So, um, since I can’t actually put it on you…” He slides it onto the ring finger of his own right hand. “As a proxy,” he says. “But I wanted to match with you, so…” He drops the cardboard box back into the bag and takes out the other one, opening it and removing the other ring. He slides that one onto the ring finger of his left hand.

Yuuri sets the bag aside and holds up his hands. The gold glints in the light.

Victor’s smile is just as bright as the shine from the rings. “You never fail to surprise me,” he says.

The choir sings something serene, and the gold glitters, and Yuuri’s heart has never felt so full.

\---

Yuuri’s on his way back to the hotel when he finds Mari and Minako-sensei slavering at the window of a partly-outdoor café.

“Oh, Minako-sensei, Mari-neechan, you’re already here,” he says. Here and enraptured by something in a café.

Their eyes gleam as they immediately dive onto him. “Yuuri, we need a huge favor!” they cry in unison.

Which is how he ends up at an outdoor table with Yuri Plisetsky, Otabek Altin, Mari, Minako-sensei, and, inexplicably, Phichit and Christophe, who seem to have gravitated there at the scent of possible excitement.

(“I don’t even _know_ Yuri Plisetsky!” Yuuri’d cried. “We’ve only met a few times!”

“That’s good enough!” they’d declared.

…well, apparently so.)

Not that Yuri Plisetsky seems _happy_ about it, but Otabek is silently polite and Phichit and Christophe put together could probably befriend the entire world, so Yuuri sits awkwardly and tries not to be too embarrassed by Mari and Minako-sensei sobbing into the table.

“It’s kind of weird for us all to be here like this before the Final starts,” Yuuri says. The food laid out before them looks delicious, the weather is brisk, and the company is surreal. A lovely dining experience before one of the biggest days of his life. “At last year’s Final, I was always by myself, even at the banquet. I couldn’t talk to anyone.”

Christophe looks aghast. “Yuuri, you don’t remember?” he asks, his eyes wide and strangely disappointed.

“What?” Yuuri says. The looks he’s getting from Christophe and Yuri make him want to squirm in his seat.

Christophe’s face slides into a more familiar smirk. “Yuuri, you got drunk on champagne and started dancing,” he says. “Everyone saw it.”

“…eh?”

“That was disgusting as hell,” Yuri says, his voice dripping with disdain. “I got dragged into a dance-off and got humiliated, too!”

Yuuri feels his stomach plummeting into the ground in sheer horror. “A dance-off?” he says weakly. “With Yuri Plisetsky?”

“I did mine with a pole dance, half-naked,” Christophe says cheerfully.

Everything is awful and Yuuri is going to sink through his seat. He puts his hands to his face and stares numbly at the table. “I start going off the rails when I drink, just like my Kyushu born-and-bred dad, so I was trying to lay off, but…”

He has a vague, distant memory of somewhere in the vicinity of sixteen glasses of champagne.

“I still have videos,” Christophe says. He lifts up his phone to show Phichit, who looks desperately curious.

“Wait, what?” Phichit says, instantly grabbing the phone and watching in fascination. “Yuuri, that’s so dirty.”

Mari and Minako-sensei appear from behind them, jointly breathing “I want to see!”

“Don’t look!” Yuuri cries, trying in vain to grab the phone away. “W-wait, cut it out already!”

The phone remains with Phichit, but Christophe is suddenly fascinated with Yuuri’s hands. “What’s with the rings, Yuuri?” he asks.

Mari furrows her brow. “Huh? Rings?” she says.

“I don’t remember you wearing that,” Minako-sensei says with a confused expression.

“U-um, this is…I wanted to get a lucky charm when I was here, and it seemed right,” Yuuri says. It’s technically true, but the white lie sits heavy in his mouth.

Phichit peers at them from across the table. “They look like wedding rings,” he says.

Yuuri hears Victor say, in an amused voice, “Now _there’s_ an idea.”

“No no no, just a lucky charm,” Yuuri says. He tries very hard to not think about what Victor said. “They’re like gold medals, so one for the Final and…the other for…all the other events?”

The atmosphere around the table shifts.

“Gold…” Otabek says, narrowing his eyes.

“Medals…” Phichit says, his eyes set on something in the distance.

“…huh?” Christophe says, that smirk back on his face.

Yuuri tries not to die from the overwhelming embarrassment. 

He’s saved, in a way, by a familiar voice crying out, “Wait a second!”

JJ Leroy and his fiancée arrive at the scene, each sporting a wide grin. _“Our_ rings represent the gold medals I will always win!” he declares.

“That’s right, it’s definitely ours,” his fiancée purrs as she leans into him.

…the food’s gone, so there’s not really a reason to stick around here.

“Well, tomorrow’s an early start,” Christophe says as they unanimously exit the café. “Better call it a night.”

JJ’s probably saying something as they leave, but Yuuri doesn’t really pay attention to it.

When Yuuri’s back at his hotel room, he flops down on the bed and pulls out his phone. “Sorry I couldn’t talk to you,” he says. “There were too many people around.”

“No, don’t worry, I can’t expect to monopolize you,” Victor says, shaking his head. “It’s good for you to talk to other people.”

“Still, it feels awkward to have you be listening when no one else knows you’re there,” Yuuri says. He rests his chin in his free hand. “I wish you could join in the conversation. I’m sure everyone would like you.”

“They certainly seem friendly, barring the other Yuri,” Victor says. “Now, _I_ wish I could have seen those videos--”

Yuuri stares dead-eyed at the mattress. “Don’t remind me,” he says weakly.

“I wonder if Yuuko could install a pole at the rink--”

_“Don’t remind me.”_

Victor laughs. “Fine, fine,” he says. “Deny an old man his pleasures.”

Yuuri rolls onto his back and holds the phone up. “You’re not _that_ old,” he says.

“Up until a few days ago, I was literally over twice your age,” Victor points out. “Sometimes I feel like a cradle robber.”

It’s hard to remember how old Victor is. Appearance-wise, he’s frozen at 27, but that was twenty years ago. Yuuri tries to imagine his family approving of a relationship with a 47-year-old, and fails. 

Still. “You’re not taking advantage of me,” Yuuri says dryly. “I’m 24, not 16. I can handle having a boyfriend who’s older than me.”

Victor’s tone is very light as he says, “What about having a husband who’s older than you?”

Yuuri isn’t completely sure he heard that right. “Huh?” he asks, hoping for clarification.

“Phichit said the rings looked like wedding rings, and he’s not wrong--we were even in a church when you put them on,” Victor says. His tone has an underlying current of nerves, now. “It wasn’t the most orthodox of proposals, and I know you didn’t mean it that way, but I wanted to interpret it that way regardless. And then Phichit said it outright, and…” He gives a crooked smile. “Would it be so bad?”

Yuuri stares at his phone. “Not--not _bad,_ but…” He trails off. What does he even say here?

“It was just an idle thought, nothing more,” Victor says. Except Yuuri can _see_ how fake that smile is, and hear how controlled Victor’s voice is, and he thinks, _oh._

“Okay,” Yuuri says, before he can put more thought into it. “Let’s do that. Or I guess we already did that? Um, did that count as a wedding, would we be getting married later…”

Victor lights up like the sun. It’s almost blinding. “We can’t have a real ceremony,” he says. “The only person who could even know is Yuuko, and I think we’ve strained our credibility enough with her. So I think that could’ve been a wedding, if you’re okay with that.”

“Okay,” Yuuri repeats. “So…we’re just…married, now? We say we are, and that’s it?” It’s kind of anticlimactic. 

“It’s not as if our relationship was especially normal in the first place,” Victor says. He has a point.

“Married,” Yuuri says. It feels foreign on his tongue. Before meeting Victor, it’d been years since he really thought about the possibility of ever being married. His love life wasn’t exactly existent. “I just got retroactively married to a ghost over a cellphone.”

“In lieu of a honeymoon, you can come home and show me a gold medal,” Victor says with a bright grin. 

“Does this even change anything?” Yuuri asks. “If there’s no ceremony, and we can’t move in together, and there aren’t any tax benefits.”

“It’s symbolic,” Victor says simply. “It’s not concrete, but what in our relationship is? Besides, I never thought I’d be married. I always assumed I’d go through a string of unsatisfying relationships before eventually giving up and starting a dog collection. Then I assumed I wouldn’t interact with anyone for the rest of eternity. It’s nice to be wrong on both counts.”

In, so to speak, another life, being married to Victor would be fantastic, Yuuri thinks. In this one, it’s largely underwhelming. But if it’s all they have, they’ll take it. That might as well be their motto.

So. They’re married now.

…tax benefits would have been nice, honestly.

\---

And then the day is here. 

“The Grand Prix Final is here in Barcelona, Spain!” says Morooka into the mike.

Yuuri walks down the hallway with the other competitors, phone in his jacket pocket. 

“Tonight, it’s the Men’s Singles Short Program.”

The whole world is watching--

\--including, in a rink very far away, his husband.

It’s time to earn that honeymoon.


	10. Chapter 10

Yuuri’s up first. Before he goes onstage--before he gets in front of the many cameras--he speaks to Victor one last time.

Not that they actually say much. Yuuri kisses the ring on his right hand, and Victor kisses the spot on his own right ring finger where a ring would be, and they smile at each other, and Yuuri says, “I’m off!” before making his exit.

_“On the ice, representing Japan, Yuuri Katsuki!”_

“He’s greeted by a roaring crowd as he takes the ice. Yuuri Katsuki of Japan. One year after he finished the Final in last place, Yuuri Katsuki is about to start his short program.

“He is skating to “On Love: Eros”.”

This isn’t the time for seduction. He doesn’t need to focus on that. Right now, it’s jumps he needs, concrete points. He talked about it with Victor, and doing the same he usually does won’t be enough. Merely beating the personal best he got in the Rostelecom Cup won’t be enough, not with JJ still around.

If his face isn’t as sultry as usual when he glances at the camera, well, that’s not important.

“So, Oda-san, he’s supposedly changed his jump composition in this program.”

“Yes, after the Rostelecom Cup, it was changed for even higher marks.”

_JJ’s program has 5.22 points on mine in the jumps’ base value alone. If I don’t change my program…_

When he spoke to Victor about it, it seemed like just another challenge. An opportunity to grow even higher. Changing a jump to a quadruple flip is risky, but since meeting Victor, any risk he took always worked out in the end. It’ll be the same here.

_I’ve focused practice time on the quadruple flip, but my success rate is still low. I’ve decided to go for it, though._

All those failed attempts at morning practice yesterday--they don’t matter. That’s in the past. What matters is right here, on this ice at this moment.

“A triple axel.”

“That jump has a difficult entry, so it will get higher marks.”

“Next up is a quadruple jump combination.”

“Quadruple Salchow, triple toe loop.”

“Another success!”

_I’m doing perfectly so far. My jumps have been flawless. This is a numbers game, and my TEC will win._

“Now, the highly anticipated quadruple flip.”

_Almost almost--no--_

“A quadruple flip, but one hand on the ice.”

_Not enough points it isn’t enough this won’t beat JJ not enough not enough_

He can barely concentrate on his spin. When the music ends, his breath isn’t heavy from exhaustion. Frustration with his own weakness, fear of failure, fear of disappointing Victor--at least he’s familiar with the first two. He half-collapses onto the ice, resting his forehead and fists against it and trying not to cry in front of the cameras.

At the kiss and cry, he only barely manages to look up when he hears his name.

“Here comes the score for Yuuri Katsuki. His score is 97.83. It didn’t break the 100 mark, but it’s still a high score.”

High. Right. This is the Final. A high score isn’t enough. Everyone gets high scores here. He couldn’t even beat his personal best--it’s only a few points higher than his score at regionals. 

You can’t seduce an audience with numbers, and he didn’t even get those. 

He grips his phone and imagines, for a second, that it’s Victor’s hand.

Yuuri manages to find a quiet corner near the changing room before he pulls out his phone and earbuds. Victor isn’t smiling, but he isn’t frowning, either.

“Victor--” Yuuri starts.

Victor cuts him off by quietly saying, “Do you want to stew in failure, or do you want to use this as a lesson for the rest of the season?”

Yuuri feels off-kilter for a moment. “…a lesson,” he replies.

“Good. It’s a lesson for me too--even if the quadruple flip was your idea, I should have realized focusing solely on jumps was the wrong approach,” Victor says. “Now we both know better, right?” He’s back to a smile, and Yuuri can’t help but feel a little buoyed by it.

“Yeah,” Yuuri says. “The season isn’t over. The next time I do my short program, I won’t make the same mistake.”

And there’s still the free skate tomorrow. He can close the gap then--hell, he doesn’t even know how much of a gap there is. He was the first up. Maybe he won’t be the only one to make a mistake. It’s not over yet.

“I think I’ll go back to the arena to watch the others,” Yuuri says. At the very least, Christophe will probably be entertaining.

He puts on his glasses so he’ll be able to actually _see_ the others, and ends up taking a seat next to Sara Crispino. Sara’s nice. She lent him her phone in Moscow so he could call Yuuko-chan.

Watching Chris skate “Intoxicated” now that he knows they pole danced together while he was drunk is…well, he kind of wonders how _he_ did in that dance-off. Maybe he’ll ask. Maybe he’ll continue repressing having ever heard about it.

Christophe scores better than he did, Otabek Altin scores _much_ better than he did, JJ…is probably thinking along the same lines as Yuuri now. _There’s still the free skate. It’s not over. I’m not done yet._

Yuuri’s torn between feeling a little smug about that and a little like JJ is weirdly relatable now.

Still not over the phone incident, though.

Back at the hotel room, Yuuri puts the phone down on the bed, stretches his arms up, and says, “I’m going to take a shower.”

Taking off his short program costume is always a bit of a trial; even once he’s managed to unzip it, he practically has to peel out of it. He wonders if that was a deliberate design choice, then remembers this was designed for a sixteen-year-old, and decides not to continue that line of thought. 

The blissfully hot water washes away the remaining vestiges of sweat. It’s not as good as a soak in the hot spring, but it relieves his sore muscles anyway. The tension in his shoulders lessens a little. Regardless of what happened today, right now, he can relax.

Once he finishes, he towels off and grabs the phone again before sitting down on the chair next to the window. He looks out at the night sky of Barcelona. It’s probably even colder out there now than it was yesterday evening.

“If you could go anywhere, where would you?” Yuuri asks idly.

“The easy answer would be your family’s inn,” Victor replies with a slight smile. “But I think that’s not what you meant.”

Yuuri shakes his head. “Not really, no,” he says. “That’s a nice thought, though.” It’s something he’s thought about a lot--Victor meeting his parents, trying his mom’s cooking, going to the hot spring together. It’d be nice. More than nice. Yuuri can’t really think of anything better.

“Hm.” Victor taps his chin in thought. “St. Petersburg,” he says. “I don’t know how much things have changed in the past twenty years, but there was this restaurant not far from my apartment that served the most wonderful pelmeni--whether or not you’d like it, I don’t know, but I hope you would. Or just spending a day with you inside while the weather is awful. Just lazing around with you and Makkachin, trying my terrible cooking.”

“That’s another easy answer,” Yuuri says with a wry smile of his own.

“It’s true, though. I’ve seen enough of the world. If not your home, then mine. Not that my apartment was much of a home--it was too large for one person and a dog, with too much expensive furniture. I mostly used it to sleep, really.

“So my answer remains the same. Your family’s inn.”

A little ball of warmth curls in Yuuri’s stomach. “That’s where I’d want to go with you too,” he says softly.

They don’t talk about their limitations much. It hurts a little, to think about what they’ll never have. But Yuuri can’t help it--if he could choose between a gold medal and Victor being corporeal, he knows which one he’d choose in a heartbeat.

He stares out the window of his hotel room and tries not to think about what it would be like if Victor was there with him.

\---

The ice is waiting.

Backstage, Yuuri pulls out his phone.

“When you get that gold medal, you’ll have to kiss it for me,” Victor says. His expression is sly. 

For a moment, Yuuri considers doing something absurd like licking it on camera. But that’d be weird. He won’t do that.

That stuff’s easier to do in the eros outfit, anyway.

“Promise,” Yuuri says, and blows a kiss at the screen. Victor taps his lips to catch it.

They hardly even need to say anything. They both know what’s at stake, and Yuuri would be lying if he said he was completely confident that he would win. But confidence isn’t everything--just look at JJ. 

Yuuri takes a deep breath. “See you at the honeymoon,” he says, and stashes the phone with his jacket.

And then he’s on the ice, and the program is starting.

_My name is Yuuri Katsuki. Eight months ago, my life changed. Sometime after that, I fell in love. Today, I’ll prove it to the world._

“He said he’d like to use this program the express the different forms of love he feels. His music for the free skate is “Yuri on Ice”.”

Somehow, Yuuri feels more at peace right now than he ever has while performing this program. It’s as if the commentators and the audience aren’t even there. It’s just him, the ice, the music, and the knowledge that Victor is watching far away.

“There will be two consecutive quads. The first is part of a combination...quadruple toe loop, double toe loop.”

He can hear the faint scrape of his skates slicing through the ice. It’s a perfect accompaniment to the music. The sound represents him just as much as the fluttering piano notes do.

_For more than half my life, I’ve been trying to honor Victor’s memory. Thank you for bringing me all the way here, Victor._

The program is embedded in his bones. There aren’t any lyrics to this music, but something in these gliding movements sings inside him nonetheless.

_And it’s not just Victor I have to thank._

“A quadruple Salchow.”

_So many people have supported me. For the last eight months, I may have been low on resources, but I was never low on love._

“A triple flip.”

That was originally a triple loop. But he’s changed the plan a little, just like last time. _My performance needs to be better than flawless for a chance at the gold. This is my first Grand Prix Final with Victor. To commemorate it, I want it to have the same difficulty as his._

“A triple axel.”

“A triple flip is planned next.”

_It’s my plan that matters now._

The commentator gasps as Yuuri launches himself across the ice. “A quadruple toe loop?” 

_You know it, don’t you, Victor?_

“Triple axel, single loop, triple Salchow.”

_This is only the beginning. I’ll skate with you forever._

“Triple lutz, triple toe loop.”

_Here and now, I’ll prove to everyone that you’re more than a memory. You’re not just a generic inspiration. I’m not just following your legacy. I’m surpassing it._

The music grows faster as it heads towards its climax.

“The last jump is a quad, the signature move of his inspiration, Victor Nikiforov!”

The ice chips beneath his feet as he leaps through the air--

“A quadruple flip! He did it!”

He doesn’t feel ecstatic or overwhelmed. He feels calm, peaceful, like there was no other possible conclusion.

With the final notes and the final spin, everything ends.

He reaches his free hand towards the camera, and the audience roars.

“Yuuri Katsuki has succeeded in creating a masterful new start to his career!”

It’s _over._ He’s finished his free skate--his last performance in the Final--he’s overcome last year’s failure for certain--and it all comes rushing down on him as he raises his fists to the ceiling and roars in return, tears dripping down his face.

At the kiss and cry, he knows he won’t do _badly,_ but it’s still nerve-wracking. So much rides on this score. 

“We have Yuuri Katsuki’s scores…”

The audience _screams_ as the commentator yells, “His free skate score is 222.58! He’s beaten Victor Nikiforov’s twenty-year world record for the Men’s Singles Free Skate! His total score is 320.41! He’s jumped all the way to first place!”

Oh.

That’s…

A way to overcome nerves.

He may not have won yet--Chris, Yuri Plisetsky, and Otabek Altin still have a chance to dethrone him--but somehow, even if he doesn’t get gold, he feels like he’s won something much greater.

When Yuuri can get to his phone, he can tell that if Victor were both present and corporeal, he’d probably be smothered in Russian skater right now. Victor looks utterly delighted, incapable of containing his glee.

“I’ve never been so happy to lose to someone before,” Victor says, eyes bright and shining.

“I didn’t beat your total record, just your free skate,” Yuuri reminds him. _But maybe I would’ve, if I hadn’t messed up yesterday._

Victor shakes his head. “That’s more than enough,” he says. “The last time anyone scored higher than I did in a free skate was…I don’t recall, but a long time ago, even before I died.”

“Twenty-six years ago, when you were 21,” Yuuri says; by this point, it’s hard to feel awkward for knowing everything about Victor’s career, not when Victor doesn’t mind at all. “Your last Worlds before you started your gold streak.”

The scoring system was different back then. But until just a couple years ago, Victor was the only person in the world to land four quads in one program. No one had even _done_ a quadruple flip. Not long after the new scoring system was implemented, fans calculated what score Victor’s final performance would have earned. It’s unofficial, and slightly controversial, but even decades later, no one’s been able to beat it.

Until now.

“It’s fitting that you’ll be starting a gold streak of your own,” Victor says with a grin. “If you can do this, then all you need is to reconfigure your short program and no one will be able to stop you.”

 _You say that like it’s so easy,_ Yuuri thinks. But he wants to believe it. 

First, though, he has to hope this is enough to fend off Chris, Otabek Altin…

…and Yuri Plisetsky.

He returns to the arena to watch.

Christophe is the same as ever. But the moment he flubs a jump, Yuuri can tell there’s no competition there. It’s a shame--but Yuuri knows he’ll be back. He’s been in Worlds every year since his debut. They’ll see each other again. Hopefully they won’t see as much of each other as they did at last year’s banquet, though.

Otabek Altin is a stalwart force, his determination blazing through every movement. Yuuri’s never met him before, but he’s worthy of respect. And yet not worthy enough, when his score is announced and Yuuri is _still_ in first. At least he barely scraped past JJ.

Yuri Plisetsky…

Is a red and pink flare of passion on the ice. Not a jump is missed. Not a step is out of place. He dazzles the audience, he enthralls the commentators, he gives undoubtedly the best performance of his life.

He gets second.

Yuuri stands on the podium with a gold medal around his neck for the first time in his life.

“He showed us a performance that no one would have imagined after last year’s Final,” says one of the commentators. “Despite not having a coach, his choreography and technique are unparalleled. If this is the result of mere inspiration, I think Victor Nikiforov is going to be the object of study for a great deal of skaters from now on.”

Which is another benefit, Yuuri realizes--with this, Victor will never be forgotten. People will remember him as a person, not a series of records. They’ll never find the success Yuuri did, but they’ll try, they’ll learn as much as they can, and that’s-- _that’s_ better than a gold medal, by far. Ensuring Victor’s legacy for generations to come.

In front of the cameras, Yuuri raises the medal to his lips and kisses it.

\---

The audience is silent before the exhibition.

“The men’s singles gold medalist, Japan’s Yuuri Katsuki,” Morooka murmurs. “His exhibition is a variation on the final free program of Victor Nikiforov, his inspiration for the season. The music is “Stay Close to Me”.”

Yuuri could do this program in his sleep.

He remains focused, however, on the gentle piano notes and the baritone words. Every gliding step is both a mark of connection between him and Victor and a demonstration of his own skills. 

With no sound from the audience, and no commentator, it truly is just him and the music, and no one knows this music better than he does.

The audience cheers at his first jump, though, and he can hardly blame them; the flawless quadruple lutz is a sight to see. When he first performed it in front of Victor, he made all the quads besides the toe loop into triples, but here, after months, with this program, he can do almost anything.

A quadruple flip, next, perfectly executed. Victor would call it beautiful. He has, a few times.

It’s shortly after the flip, however, when the variation begins.

He reaches his arm out, hand gesturing in a way that almost seems like he’s pulling someone towards him. He draws it nearly to his face, and glides to the side, lifting his arms to the sky. As he lowers them, he bends down, one arm cradling the air and the other out from his side and up again.

He has to throw in a jump when he withdraws--a perfect triple axel--to make it look like it’s still a singles program, and not a pairs skate with an invisible partner.

Yuuri caresses the air near his face, and imagines how it was in practice, when the person he’s dancing with was there with him, to smile softly at the almost touch.

He continues-- _they_ continue--with the rest of the program, the gliding steps and hands touching invisible hands, the two voices joining together, a waltz on the ice that is both solo and not. An encapsulation of a secret the audience will never know.

It may be on the melancholy side, but Victor always calls it beautiful anyway.

He finishes to wild applause, and thinks, _I hope the cameras got a good shot of that._

\---

Everyone is ecstatic in Hasetsu. For once, his mother is there at the airport, though his father isn’t, since understandable practicality requires at least one of them to stay at the inn. And of course his father is there when they return--his father and all the others, Mari, Minako-sensei, Yuuko-chan, Nishigori, the triplets, even, inexplicably, Kenjirou Minami, who seems liable to melt just from being in Yuuri’s presence.

But of course there’s someone who isn’t there, and after a dinner with almost nonstop congratulations, Yuuri arrives at the rink, medal in hand.

“Welcome back, Yuuri,” Victor says with a brilliant grin. “I hope you spent some time with your family before running off by yourself?”

Yuuri nods. “Don’t worry, I talked to everyone,” he says. “They’re all excited. It’s a little overwhelming, to be honest.” Not that he can blame them. He’s never won gold in a major competition, much less the Grand Prix Final. It’s just a little stressful to be surrounded by so many well-wishers. Being alone with Victor is much more relaxing.

“Now, let’s see that medal of yours,” Victor says, a glimmer in his eyes.

Yuuri raises it up to show him. “I know you’ve seen a lot of them, so they probably all look the same to you,” he says.

“Nonsense, this is my favorite one,” Victor says, examining it.

A flicker of warmth rises in Yuuri’s heart.

Victor straightens up. “Now you’ll just have to bring me more,” he says. “I’m thinking ten, fifteen? How many medals are there in a season? Japanese Nationals, the Four Continents--”

“No no, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Yuuri says hastily. “One at a time, okay?”

Victor gives a melodramatic sigh. “If you insist,” he says.

Yuuri puts the medal down on the table. “I’m going to get my skates on,” he says. He hadn’t bothered to do so yet; he wanted to see Victor as soon as possible.

When he gets back, he sees Victor lazily tracing figure eights on the ice. He’s seen Victor skating here plenty of times, but he thinks he’ll never quite get used to it. Victor Nikiforov in Ice Castle Hasetsu. Victor Nikiforov waiting for him, here in Yuuri’s home rink.

Victor looks up at him, and gives a wave and a smile. Yuuri’s heart clenches a little. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to that, either.

He joins Victor in the center of the ice. “Can I take a break tonight, or is my coach going to tell me to keep practicing right after I get home from a long flight?” he asks.

Victor holds his chin in thought. “Maybe a little break,” he concedes. “Just for tonight. But Japanese Nationals are coming up, so it’s back to the grind tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Yuuri mutters. Not that he’s really complaining that much. The thought of returning to Nationals to wipe off the other disgrace from last year is very appealing at the moment.

Victor starts to skate around him in a circle. “And “Eros” needs refining, of course,” he says, the ice scraping beneath his feet.

There is a pause.

They both stand very still.

Slowly, Victor raises his foot and slides it onto the ice. A thin line follows it, the skate digging into the ice like anyone else’s.

In the vast silence, their eyes meet. Victor takes one step closer to Yuuri, then two.

It’s a slow, suspenseful moment, and Yuuri can’t help but hold his breath, but Victor reaches out and brushes the tips of his fingers against Yuuri’s hair. They connect. Victor runs his fingers through Yuuri’s hair with a raw, open expression on his face Yuuri’s never seen before. Victor looks _starving,_ and the slow moment ends abruptly as he pulls Yuuri into a hug so tight Yuuri can barely breathe. 

Barely breathing is fine, though, for the opportunity to hold onto Victor and not let go. Victor’s body is warm, _real,_ and _there_ and this is better than any medal Yuuri’s ever won. 

Victor lets go, and Yuuri’s about to complain until Victor’s fingers are all over his face. His cheeks, his chin, his forehead; Victor seems to want to touch every inch of skin. Yuuri’s completely down with that.

Victor’s thumb slides over Yuuri’s lips and there’s that starving expression again, and he leans in and kisses Yuuri like there’s nothing in the world that matters more. His hands move to frame Yuuri’s face. Yuuri almost can’t keep up with it, but he wraps his arms around Victor again and parts his lips and relishes Victor’s tongue immediately sliding into his mouth.

Victor’s mouth is even warmer than the rest of his body; there’s no slight taste of anything, just wet warmth and a very determined tongue. Yuuri doesn’t have a whole lot of kissing experience, but this beats all of them by miles, and he doesn’t want it to ever end.

He does need to breathe, though, even if maybe Victor doesn’t, so he very reluctantly pulls back. Victor’s bright blue eyes shine, and his face is raw joy.

 _“Yuuri,”_ Victor breathes, his voice almost reverent.

“Yeah,” Yuuri says with a smile, because for once, he has countless things to say, but he can’t choose between them. “This is real, right? This is happening?”

“If this is a dream, I never want to wake up,” Victor whispers, cradling Yuuri’s face in his hands. “I want to stay in this moment forever.”

There’s a crack in Victor’s voice, and Yuuri realizes Victor’s eyes are a little wet. _Twenty years,_ he thinks, and, _me,_ he thinks, and, _oh._

“But I can’t,” Victor says in a soft, small voice. “This won’t last.”

Before Yuuri can say anything, Victor pulls him into another tight hug and buries his face into Yuuri’s neck. “I love you, I love you, you are the most extraordinary person I have ever met, I love you,” Victor whispers. “I want to hold you forever, but I can’t. It’s already ending.”

Yuuri wants to pretend he doesn’t know what Victor means, but it’s obvious. Victor’s hold is already a little lighter. Yuuri’s stomach twists. No, this wasn’t long enough, they barely had any time--this isn’t _fair--_

Neither life nor death is fair. With their last moments, Yuuri pulls Victor’s head back and kisses him one last time, one last touch, before Victor’s lips are insubstantial and it’s all over. The warmth has vanished in the cold of the rink.

Yuuri feels like collapsing. It’s not _fair._ Why would they be taunted like this? Has whatever is keeping Victor here decided to play with them? He wants to scream. His throat’s closed up.

There’s a horrible silence. He can’t even look at Victor right now. He doesn’t want to know what kind of expression Victor has. Maybe he really would collapse, if he saw it.

The silence stretches on until Victor says, softly, “Yuuri.”

Yuuri still doesn’t say anything. He still doesn’t look up.

“Yuuri. I think I can go now.”

It takes a moment for him to process, and then he looks up in an instant. Victor looks…tired. Unimaginably tired.

“Something’s changed,” Victor says quietly. “I think whatever was keeping me here is gone. It feels like I can leave.”

“No,” Yuuri says. This doesn’t feel real. “No, you can’t--”

Victor interrupts him. “What just happened will never happen again,” he says. “I can tell. We can never touch again. Nobody but you will ever see or hear me. I will never be able to go outside. I will never be more to you than I am now.”

“It’s enough,” Yuuri blurts out. “We’ve made it this far, we can keep going. I don’t want you to leave--”

“Don’t you understand? Our situation was never sustainable. You can’t come here every night for the rest of your life.” So tired, like he can’t continue.

“I don’t care if it looks weird to other people, I’ll--”

 _“No,_ Yuuri,” Victor snaps. “You can’t spend your life focusing on me. This isn’t fair for either of us. Seeing you trap yourself here for my sake will only make me suffer, because I care about you more than anything and I cannot stand to see you wither away holding onto something that is barely real.”

“I love you,” Yuuri whispers, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

Victor gives a sad, sad smile. “And that’s why I have to leave,” he says.

Yuuri stands there, his eyes filling with tears. A few minutes ago was the happiest moment of his life, and now--he doesn’t know what to do. There isn’t anything he can do. All he can do is stand there, wordless.

Victor reaches out, and his fingers lightly caress the air just above Yuuri’s cheek. “Goodbye, Yuuri,” he whispers. “There’s so much left for you to do. Go, live. There are more than medals in your future. Nothing would make me happier than knowing you have a happy life.”

Yuuri wants to say that his life won’t be happy without Victor in it, but--but that’s the point, isn’t it, that he shouldn’t think like that, he shouldn’t depend on just one person, especially someone who isn’t really a person at all. He’ll have to retire eventually, and will this building still be an ice rink fifty years from now? Will he still be able to skate fifty years from now? Their situation _isn’t_ sustainable, not in the long run. They’ve been living a fantasy for eight months. Time had to catch up to them eventually. Maybe it’s better to cut it off now, when he’s still young.

Yuuri finds himself mirroring the gesture, his hand barely brushing the intangibility of Victor’s face. It’s not unlike in the pairs skate. Victor closes his eyes for a moment and takes a shuddering breath before opening them again.

“I love you,” Yuuri repeats, though his voice is steadier now. “I don’t know what brought us together, but I don’t care. I don’t want to see you suffer, either. If this is what you want, then--” He can’t help it; his voice cracks. But he recovers. “--then I won’t stop you,” he says. “Just promise me something?”

“Anything,” Victor whispers.

“It’s kind of stupid, but if there’s anything after this--” For all he knows, there isn’t, but. “--could you say hi to my dog Vicchan?” Yuuri asks. “I named him after you. He’d probably like to meet you.”

“Of course,” Victor says, smiling. “It’s not stupid at all. I’m sure Makkachin would like a friend, too.”

“Okay.” Yuuri swallows. “Okay, you can--you can go.”

Neither of them withdraws their hand. “Thank you for so much, Yuuri,” Victor says softly. “Have a good life. I know you will.”

“Goodbye,” Yuuri manages to say.

With one last smile, Victor isn’t there anymore.

Yuuri’s hand is left holding the air. It stays, for a moment, until Yuuri realizes that under the overhead lights, the ring still glints.

That’s the final touch. He collapses onto the ice, bent over, eyes squeezed shut and fists clenched as tears run down his face and a scream rips from his throat. It echoes in the empty rink. After a while, it turns into ugly sobs.

After a while more, they gradually abate. Yuuri opens his eyes, staring down at the tear-splattered ice. 

He stands up, and wipes his face with his shirt. He feels raw, empty. Like there’s nothing left in him.

But of course there is. He takes a deep breath. “Okay,” he whispers. “I’m going to be okay.”

He looks down on the rings on his hands. They shine just as much as they did an hour ago.

_I’m going to be okay._

He locks up the building earlier than usual, and goes home.

Minako-sensei is still there, though Yuuko-chan and Nishigori have taken the triplets off to bed and Minami seems to have gone home. Mari and his parents are probably working.

“You look like shit,” she says. “Want a drink?” She raises a mostly-empty sake bottle.

Yuuri shakes his head. “Thanks, I’m all right,” he says. “I’m just tired. I’m going to go to bed.”

“Well, welcome back,” she says for the third time that evening. “We’re proud of you, Yuuri. You made a lot of people happy this year.”

Yuuri gives a faint smile. “Thanks,” he repeats, and means it. 

“All right, go to bed,” Minako-sensei says, making a shooing motion. “I’ll see you in the morning. Nationals are coming up, I need to put you through your paces.”

Yuuri says goodnight to her and goes to his room. He puts the medal--he almost forgot it at the rink--with his other trophies, and looks at them. Not much gold in there. 

He’ll have to fix that.

But first, he should get some sleep. It’ll be a long day tomorrow.

He dreams about a smile and the touch of a hand against his face.

\---

It’s strange, how little changes.

He still practices in the evening--the daytime is still filled with customers. He works with Minako-sensei, he exercises, he stays on his diet. He’s quieter than usual, but his family seems to have taken this as a sign that he’s just working harder. No one knows.

Well, almost no one.

A few days later, when Yuuko-chan hands him the keys, she asks, “Did Victor ever tell you I talk to him sometimes?”

Yuuri blinks. “Um, no, he didn’t,” he says.

Yuuko-chan leans back against the shelves and smiles. “I told him not to,” she says. “It’s good to know he remembered. Anyway, sometimes in the morning when there aren’t any customers around, I just…say hi, and stuff. I never hear him respond, obviously. It’s just a little therapeutic to say some things, even if I can’t tell he’s listening.”

“If you didn’t want me to know, why are you telling me now?” Yuuri asks, a little confused, a little touched.

Yuuko-chan bites her lip. “This morning, when I said hi, it felt different,” she says. “I never thought it felt like anyone was there. But this morning…I don’t know, it just felt different.” She swallows. “Yuuri-kun, is he…still there?”

Yuuri takes a deep breath. It’s okay. Everything’s fine. He shakes his head. “No,” he says. “He moved on after I came back.”

Yuuko-chan’s expression shifts from caution to sympathy. She puts her hand on his shoulder and squeezes. “I’m glad you met him,” she says softly. “I could tell you were a lot happier than you used to be. I worried you were working too hard, but I guess I didn’t have to, if he was there to look after you.”

“…thanks, Yuuko-chan,” Yuuri says softly. “We’re really grateful you trusted me. We wouldn’t have been able to do as much as we did if it wasn’t for you.” It would’ve been rough not being able to talk to Victor during competitions, and then in the church…well.

Yuuko-chan smiles. “I was a fan of him too, remember?” she says, her tone a little playful. “I wasn’t going to let down my friend _and_ my idol.”

Yuuri fails to suppress a small laugh. “I knew I could count on you,” he says. “You’re a good friend, Yuuko-chan.”

“Now go on, get to practice,” she says. “I’m sure he wouldn’t want you to slack off.”

Even if it hadn’t been implicit in Victor’s last words, Yuuri knows she has a point.

The first night back in the rink after Victor left was…rough, in some ways, but, surprisingly, not in all of them. He fell down more than usual, and felt off-kilter when it happened, because no one was there to criticize him. He couldn’t muster up “Eros” at all, unsure where to look, and once “Yuri on Ice” got to the entrance of the violin, he had to stop entirely. But he never gave up. He didn’t cry, he didn’t overthink. He just took more breathers than usual, and went back to work.

The second night was better. The music didn’t throw him off as much. He still flubbed a lot of his jumps, but not as many as the first night. 

The third night, after Yuuko-chan talked to him, the empty rink didn’t seem to echo as much. When he practiced “Eros”, he looked at the spot where he’d first seen Victor, all those months ago. Technically, nothing was there, but it felt important anyway.

The fourth night, he was very slowly starting to get used to being the only one in the room.

By the time Nationals roll around, Yuuri can perform both his programs almost as well as he had before Victor left.

“Eros” gets second; knowing there’s no significance to looking at the camera makes him falter just a little bit. “Yuri on Ice”, just a couple points below his score in the Final, nets him the gold anyway.

There’s nothing new about being alone at the kiss and cry. Nobody sees any difference at all. His phone is still in his pocket, but that’s for practicality reasons. Not having to find a quiet corner afterwards leaves him restless, but he manages.

When Kenjirou Minami asks for an autograph, he gets one plus a hug, which seems to short-circuit his brain for a second before he declares in a high-pitched voice that next year he’ll beat Yuuri for sure. Yuuri resists the urge to pat him on the head.

And after that…

The trophy case at home sees a significant increase in gold.

Not _every_ competition--but at the World Figure Skating Championship, the last international competition Victor skated in, Yuuri smashes his personal best and becomes the most decorated skater of the season. Sponsors start to line up. Yakov Feltsman sends him emails about how St. Petersburg is lovely this time of year.

Yuuri happily takes the sponsors, but remains in his home rink. It served him well this last season; he doesn’t see a reason to leave.

Choreographing his own routines is difficult, and he _knows_ they’re not as good as Victor’s. Still, his quadruple flips are flawless, and his theme of “future” serves him well.

Some very young Japanese skaters start wearing plastic rings for luck.

At 28, with five World Championships to his name, Yuuri retires. He doesn’t feel tired or listless or like there’s nothing left for him. He just thinks five is a good number. With all the money he’s accrued--far more than he needs, far more than the inn does--he starts a small skating school in Hasetsu. Not big enough to take away customers from Ice Castle, which is more for families and groups of friends anyway. But enough that plenty of excited children brag about how cool it is to have one of the best figure skaters in history for a teacher, even if he panics easily when one of them pretends to break an ankle.

Yuuri’s family and friends eventually stop asking him when he’s going to get a boyfriend, though Yuuko-chan never did in the first place. She never asked him why he wouldn’t, either, but Yuuri’s pretty sure she figured it out.

Time passes.

Some things change, and some things don’t. The world is a different place, except for when it isn’t. Generally Hasetsu has a timeless quality, but not always. Yuuri doesn’t change much, or at least he doesn’t think so. He still wears the rings.

Eventually, after a long time, Yuuri is lying in bed, not really thinking about anything in particular.

He remembers, long ago, Victor saying, _“everything went black”_ , and thinks, oh, he’s right.

 

 

 

Yuuri wakes up somewhere else. 

He doesn’t recognize it. It doesn’t feel bad, though. Warm. Nice.

Little aches and pains aren’t there anymore. He looks at his hands, and his skin is decades smoother.

He’s about to look around when he hears

_“Yuuri!”_

and he might not know where he is, but he’d know that huge grin anywhere, even if the clothes are different. Normal clothes, now.

And even though he only felt it a couple times, he definitely remembers that bone-crushing hug, though he doesn’t have to worry about breathing anymore. “Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri,” being murmured against his neck, unceasing touch, soft gray hair tickling his skin. No desperation. No lack of time.

He pulls back, finally, to see Victor’s face, Victor’s brilliantly shining face, and he can’t help but laugh. “I’m kind of sorry I kept you waiting,” he says.

“Nonsense, I would have waited decades more,” Victor says, shaking his head. “But you didn’t need to wait for _me._ You met plenty of people who would have been good for you, many better than me. Why didn’t you choose any of them, instead of growing old alone?”

“I wasn’t _alone,”_ Yuuri says. “I had my family, I had my friends. I didn’t want anything else. I was happy anyway.”

Victor kisses him, just briefly. “And I was happy to see it,” he murmurs.

The moment is interrupted by a chorus of barking.

The sound is both familiar and not--Yuuri looks down to see one furry face he hasn’t seen in many, many years and one he only saw in photos. Abruptly, his heart leaps into his throat.

Victor withdraws and leans down to pet the smaller of the two dogs. “Vicchan, right?” he says. “That’s the name he answers to, anyway. He and Makkachin are practically inseparable.”

Yuuri kneels down and is promptly bowled over by both of them. He finds himself laughing under the assault of dog tongues on his face and furry weights pressing him onto the ground. 

“All right, off,” Victor says mock-sternly, and Vicchan and Makkachin withdraw, though they stay yapping around Yuuri as he sits up.

Vicchan immediately flops into Yuuri’s lap, curling up into a fluffy ball. Yuuri skritches behind his ears and he noses into Yuuri’s stomach.

Makkachin rests his chin on Yuuri’s shoulder, closing his eyes, and seems content to stay there. 

“I told him all about you,” Victor says, petting Makkachin’s head. “It looks like he was excited to see you. Takes after his owner, really.”

With a great deal of regret, Yuuri extricates himself from the dog pile. Vicchan’s mournful noises make his heart twist, but he’ll have plenty of time for them later.

“There’s something I always wanted to do if I ever saw you again,” Yuuri says.

Victor tilts his head to the side. “Kiss me silly? Immediately jump me?”

Yuuri swats him in the arm. _Not in front of the dogs._ “No, this,” he says. “Hold out your hand.”

Victor does, looking curious.

Yuuri takes off the ring on his left hand and slides it onto Victor’s right. “I guess we’ve both got all the luck we need, but I wanted to do this anyway,” he says.

In a moment, Victor’s fingers thread between his in a mirror of the almost-handhold years ago. Victor rests his forehead against Yuuri’s. “I’ve never felt luckier than I do now,” he murmurs.

With the dogs at their feet and the warmth all around them and Victor’s hand in his, Yuuri has to agree.

Victor pulls back, though his hand stays where it is. “My parents want to meet you,” he says. “I told them all about you, too. They were happy to hear they didn’t send all my costumes to a random fan after all.”

Yuuri wonders how _his_ parents will handle the news that the reason their son never gave them grandkids is because he married a dead person twice his age. That’ll be fun. But maybe they’ll be happy just to see him. He’s missed _them,_ certainly, for years, but now…everything is different. Least of all the very corporeal person standing in front of him.

“…I don’t think it’s really hit me yet,” Yuuri says. “That I can see you again, that I can touch you, that you’re not in the rink anymore…you’re even wearing normal clothes.” He runs his hand across the normal blue T-shirt Victor’s wearing. The fact that Victor’s chest is underneath it is unrelated.

“Well, I don’t think it’s hit _me_ that I can finally talk to you again,” Victor says with a small smile. “But breaking down sobbing wouldn’t be attractive, so maybe it’s better that way.”

Yuuri can’t help a snort. “You and me both,” he says.

“So come on!” Victor says, squeezing Yuuri’s hand. “I want to show you around. The dogs do too, see how happy they are you’re here?” On cue, Makkachin and Vicchan bark and nuzzle at Yuuri’s legs.

“Guess they take after both their owners,” Yuuri says, smiling. “There’s another thing I wanted to do--”

Victor barely opens his mouth to ask what it is when Yuuri pulls him into a kiss. It’s much slower than their first one, less frantic and desperate; not so much an immediate need as a promise of repetition. They’ve got all the time in the world, and there’s nothing that can separate them.

The first time Yuuri saw Victor, he was five years old, and he didn’t think it was important. The final time has no ending. They can remain together with no limitations. The rings softly glint on each other’s hands, and their bodies are pressed together, and there is no coldness in the air.

The emotion that did not have a name envelops them forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest thing I've written in literally years. I thought it was going to be about 20k and end the same week the show did. Shows what I know. Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I've never had such a big response, either. Y'all're delightful. I look forward to staying in this fandom for years to come.


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